Meeting of Minds
by abbieingleby
Summary: When a marriage law is put in place to revive the population after the war, Ron is thrown into the turmoil of a completely different life, Harry finds himself putting his best interests at the bottom of the list and Hermione battles between the love of her match and the day to day struggles of PTSD
1. Chapter 1

**_The Turning Point_**

Six months on from the Battle of Hogwarts and the Golden Trio were still being used as a mediator for international political relations. Six months on from the Battle of Hogwarts and the Golden Trio had not been given time to grieve, or heal, or be nineteen years old. This was not thought about by the Ministry officials who were sending them off to different countries all over the world to reconcile with the governments and ministries and inform them that Voldemort and his band of death eaters would not be causing trouble for anyone, ever again. It just so happened though, that this certain trip was to Paris right before Christmas. Kingsley had promised Harry that they would all be home before the 22nd, however it was now the 23rd and they were still being called to dinners and meetings with the 'Gouvernement Magique'. The early setting winter sun had already dipped below the skyline of Paris as the trio were getting ready for a state dinner with the Minister and her husband; Hermione's hotel room was bathed in soft light from the muggle lamps deliberately spaced around the room. Ron had been fascinated by the touch technology, spending hours tapping on the base of the lamp to turn it off and on again, until Hermione had ushered him out of her room so she could finally get some peace and quiet.

 **Knock, knock.**

"Hermione? It's Harry. Are you nearly ready?" Harry called through the old fashioned, slightly crusty white door. It clicked open but Hermione was no where to be seen, so clearly she wasn't following their rules of 'No magic in muggle hotels' - not a rule they'd assigned for themselves, one that had been written for them by their Ministry advisers… Harry walked into her hotel room and sat himself in the wicker chair in the corner of the room, expecting Hermione to make herself visible at any minute.

"Have we had any word from the Ministry when we're being escorted home?" The word 'escorted' came with an eye roll as Hermione gracefully walked from the dressing room into the main room, her floor length red gown creating a swish as she walked in intricate gold heels. The magical ribbons of her heels were looped around her lower calves, artfully glimpsing through when her skirt moved. And even though she had no cares for make up or jewellery, the French Minister for Magic had sent through a drop down diamond necklace and matching earrings, so she naturally had to wear them, plus the make up did well at covering up the scars and the sallow face from her lack of sleep, and appetite.

Harry took a quick double take as Hermione walked into the room, there were few occasions when Hermione's beauty caught his eye - for the first time at the Yule Ball, a handful of times in between, and now. "U-uh, no. Well I haven't checked my post, there's a large pile of it on the bureau back in the room."

"But nothing with a Ministry stamp?" Hermione sighed, presuming that she wouldn't have anything either. "I'm a bit sick and tired of this. I know that we're ambassadors for England, and that Kingsley needs us to be doing this whilst he rebuilds the mess that is the Ministry. But it's Christmas for Merlin's sake." She took her clutch from the large queen sized bed and slipped her wand and a bottle of water into it, amazing Harry once again with how much she could fit in one purse.

"He promised we'd be home for Christmas." Hermione rolled her eyes, thinking that Harry wouldn't see her. She wasn't as sneaky as she thought.

"Don't, Mione. I know you're running out of faith in Kingsley, but I trust him."

"Maybe if he follows through with his promises I'll learn to trust him," she bit back, not meaning to snap at one of her best friends, but she was weary and emotionally disengaged by this point. "Let's just go and find Ron, he's taking forever."

After grabbing the key from the side and double locking her room, they walked down the corridor to number six and knocked three times, expecting Ron to come running and apologise for how long he was taking. If they weren't careful they would be late for the Minister's dinner, and she was already a feisty woman. It wouldn't do them any good to make relations even more tense between the two countries.

"Should we knock again?" Hermione asked, raising a perfectly pencilled eyebrow. "This isn't like him."

Harry knocked on the door once more, with a bit more force, only to find that it was open. He shrugged to his friend, and pushed the door open, walking through into the large suite that mirrored his and Hermione's. Ron was sat on the bed with a Ministry envelope in one hand, and a levitating letter in front of his face. It had clearly delivered it's message already.

"Ron..?"

"Mate?"

"You look like you've seen a dementor Ronald, what's the matter?"

"I think I'd rather see a bloody dementor right now," he mumbled, his facial expression not changing in the slightest, his eyes firmly staring at the letter in front of him. "Have you not got one?"

"Ignored the post." Harry shrugged, a sense of dread filling him that he'd rarely felt since the war. Quickly looking to Hermione who echoed his sentiments of ignoring the post, he urged her to step forward and read the letter too.

"Here. Take it." Ron muttered, his mood deteriorating further. Hermione reached one hand forward, hastily grabbing the letter before it could make up it's own mind, she started to read.

After scanning the letter, Hermione looked down at Ron with a look of anger on her face that they'd only seen a couple of times before, generally in the face of Voldemort or one of his minions. "They can't. That's barbaric. _Primitive_ almost!"

"I know! But it's _law_ now. No wonder they've been keeping us away from Ministry meetings.."

"Um.. care to fill me in, Ron, Mione?" Harry's brows were furrowed together, confusion all over his face at why his friends were so disgusted. He figured that they wouldn't be back in time for Christmas, but there was something in Harry that said Hermione wouldn't describe that as 'primitive' or 'barbaric'.

"You better read this." Hermione passed him the letter and subsequently started to pace around Ron's hotel room; the once elegant swish of her designer dress was now dramatic and filled with a sense of rage that most of the young wizarding population probably felt collectively at this moment in time.

"What does this even mean? A _marriage law?"_ Harry exclaimed, "The Ministry have already determined who will be matched, and this will be announced on the evening of the date that the letter is received upon. All witches and wizards will be made aware of who their match is via owl, it is then the witch or wizards duty to find their partner and marry them within the year. After the date of marriage a child should be .. no no they are not turning us into a baby farm?!"

"Well it looks like they're fucking about to, we don't seem to have a choice in that!" Ron remarked, the two men stood opposite each other in their dress robes, bickering back and forth about the new law.

"What if we get someone we don't like?"

"What if they don't want to marry us?" The questions pinged back and forth - faster than a quaffle between two Weasley's.

"BOYS!" Hermione shouted over the top of their incessant arguing, "Whilst _you two_ have been arguing, I've written an owl to the minister of magique apologising that we won't be at dinner, and arranged for our things to be sent back to the UK. Now, there is no way that I can apparate in these heels, so will one of you lend me your arm?"

"Of course. Back to the burrow?" Harry held her arm out for Hermione, and nodded to Ron for him to apparate first. They quickly followed suit, landing back onto the frozen ground of the apparation point in the field outside of the burrow. They'd left everything but their wands back in Paris, including their coats. Which in hindsight, was one of their worst decisions yet.

"Dumbledore!" Ron called out as soon as the icy chill of December hit him, not even thinking of Hermione in a strapless ball gown. "Let's get inside."

* * *

"Ronald! Oh! Harry! Where's Hermione?" Molly Weasley was stood at the stove in the burrow, easily balancing four or five different pots over the heat when her youngest son and her 'adopted' son walked into the house. She hadn't been expecting them back but it didn't mean that she was any less thrilled to have them.

"She was just with us.." Ron turned around, looking out of the kitchen window to see if he could see Hermione. He could. Her arms were tightly wrapped around both of the twins, who had formed a tight bond with Hermione ever since she saved Fred's life at the BoH. Finally they let her go and the youngest Weasley son could just about see Fred holding her at an arms length checking she was okay - the twins felt this overwhelming sense of duty to watch out for Hermione, something they'd stopped being ale to do for Ginny ever since her and Harry got together.

"I suppose you've heard about the letters Mrs Weasley.." Harry sighed, taking a seat at the kitchen table and smiling gratefully as she handed him a mug of tea. She patted his shoulder in condolence, even thought Harry had a niggling thought at the back of her head that he would be okay. Ginny had to be his soul mate, there was no doubt about that, surely.

"Yes dear. Ginny told me as soon as she got hers this morning, you two will be just fine I'm sure of it. Everyone else.. Well, thankfully Bill and Fleur are all settled." Mrs Weasley rambled away, ushering the twins inside along with Hermione. "Oh love, you must be absolutely frozen to the bone. Especially since you've not got any meat on your bones. Fred, George, one of you go and grab her a blanket."

Hermione hugged Mrs Weasley close, thankful for the welcoming matriarch that she was, always making sure that each one of her kids were happy, even if they weren't her kids to begin with. Her natural ability to adopt whoever came over the doorstep was about to be tested with this new marriage law, but Hermione knew that she would extend her home to anyone who arrived.

Finally a little while later they were all sat around the kitchen table, Hermione with a blanket over her shoulders and her heels strewn on the floor, Fred and George either side of her, trying to coax her into eating some supper - even thought she lacked an appetite now more than ever. Ginny had appeared out of the shower and had come down to the kitchen to reassure Harry that they wouldn't be split up, the post would come and it would say their names matched together. Ron was nervously chatting to his Dad and Percy about why the law had been implemented in the first place.

 **Rappatap, rappatap. RAPPATAP. RAPPATAP.**

"Oh for Merlin's sake, I'll let them in shall I?" Mrs Weasley stood from the table, rolling her eyes at all of the cowering young adults around the table. Of course she understood that this was a nerve wracking time for all of them, but there was no use in avoiding their fates. Hence, why the two owls at the window flew into the kitchen and delivered each letter in record time before taking a treat from Mrs Weasley and flying back off into the dark evening skies.

"Should we open them together?" Hermione mumbled nervously, trying to regain a little control in a time where she had none. It was too late though, George had already opened his and others had followed suit. Before she could even open her letter Harry and Ginny were holding each other tight, a small sob escaping Ginny in her happiness that she had been paired with her boyfriend. George's letter announced that his soul mate was Angelina, which left him in an awkward position - they'd broken up a couple of months ago, both dealing with grief in different ways and not 'clicking' anymore.

"So who'd you get then Mione?" Fred mumbled, audible to only Hermione. The rest of his family were preoccupied with their own letters, or they were happily tucking into some supper that Mrs Weasley way laying out - if she didn't know what to do, or how to help her children she would generally provide cake and tea. It seemed to solve most problems over the years.

"Oliver Wood.." She whispered back, the confusion clear in her voice. "Wasn't he captain of the quidditch team?"

"Merlin.. yeah. He was mates with Perce, definitely fought in the battle. Don't really know him besides quidditch." Fred shrugged, wishing he could provide more information to her about her 'soul' mate. This whole law seemed to be getting weirder and weirder, considering that Hermione barely knew her match, he didn't even recognise the name of his, and George's was his _ex._

"Who is she? I've never heard of her, have you Fred?" Hermione scanned over the parchment, to see if there was an address or any sort of information about Eliza McGonagall. "You don't think she's.."

"A relation of McGonagall? She's got to be. It's not exactly a common surname Mione.."

"Ooooh Freddiekins! You've ended up with Eliza McGonagall!" George cheered, jesting at his twin brother. Fred deftly hit him over the arm with his rolled up parchment, not that it would inflict any pain, but it might make George shut up for one minute.

"Wait. You know who she is?"

"Wait. You don't?!" George remarked back at his twin, mirroring his arched eyebrow perfectly.

"No.. Should I?"

"Lee had a poster of her next to his bed in the dorm!"

Hermione scoffed, "And she's Fred's match?"

By now everyone at the table had turned their attention to Fred's mysterious match, thankfully letting everyone else forget about their impending forced relationships. Mr Weasley was the next one to speak up, he knew Eliza from her struggle to petition for home schooling, which had had to go through the Ministry.

"Eliza McGonagall, well I'll be damned. She's the youngest chaser that the Holyhead Harpies have ever had, officially joined the team at sixteen thanks to some loophole in the bi laws. Made a right mess at the Ministry with regards to her home schooling."

"So that's why you don't know who she is Fred! She was home schooled. There must be a picture of her in one of those stupid magazines." Hermione commented, looking to Ginny who owned a large stack of women's quidditch mags. Ginny quickly got the hint and detangled herself from Harry, running up the stairs to her room to look for a picture of Eliza McGonagall.

"But it still doesn't explain why she's been matched with me? I don't know her," Fred blurted out, staring at Percy and his Dad, presuming they could give him some sort of explanation. Only when they didn't say anything, did he speak up again. "Do you really think this makes sense? In a year's time me, Mione, Charlie and Ron are going to have to marry people we barely know and then have bundles of mush with them!" His anger was misplaced, but he was confused. Surely the ministry couldn't force them to marry and procreate with people they didn't know?

"I'm sorry son. We've had marriage laws before, and the majority of the Ministry thought.. well they thought it would work again." He let out a sigh, looking to Molly for back up. She rubbed his arm affectionately, not knowing, like her husband, what to say to make it better for their kids. "I admit, it's a pretty old fashioned experiment, but you've just turned out to be the unlucky ones who doesn't know their match."

"FOU-U-UND HER!" Ginny called out, running down the staircase at an extraordinary pace, skidding into the kitchen in her mismatched socks, she threw down an open magazine in front of Fred, Hermione and George. There was a double page spread on the rookie witch who was 'taking the quidditch world by storm', the article featured a few pictures of her in action along with a more staged photograph of her in brand new Holyhead Harpies kit, her long blonde hair blown out, and a little make up to accentuate her features.

"Merlin.. she's even more stunning than I remembered." George mumbled, going to high five his brother, who couldn't have been paying less attention to George if he tried.

"This.. is Eliza McGonagall?" Fred let out a puff of breath that he'd been holding in, picking up the magazine and reading all about his new wife.

"Ronald dear, you're very quiet. Who did you get?" Mrs Weasley lent over the table, trying to take a peek at the letter in Ron's hand.

"Oh, I haven't opened it yet. I don't want to know." Ron swallowed a lump in his throat, looking to Harry who was happily snuggled up with Ginny, and then to Hermione, who was reading her letter again, looking for an address to go and find her future husband at. She didn't seem disappointed, just lacking any sort of opinion. And of course Harry was happy, he already had a girlfriend. But what if he got someone that he knew and didn't like, or worse, ended up with someone awful.. what if he ended up with a slytherin?! "No, I'm going to wait the 14 day period and then go and find her, but right now, I'm happier not knowing."

"Well, um, if you think that's for the best.. But .. oh Arthur, Percy. Tell him what happens if he doesn't follow through."


	2. Chapter 2

_**A Meeting of Minds**_

"I'm just saying, if I were to turn up at his house, I think he'd be a little more than confused." Hermione questioned, taking a big sip of her orange juice. "How would he even know who I am?"

Fred and Harry laughed, whilst George just sat there puzzled. "Yeah sure ok Mione. You're totally ambiguous in the wizarding world." George spoke up, receiving nods of approval from Harry and Fred who were eagerly munching on toast.

"Hilarious." She sighed, looking over her letter again. His name and his address was all that she had, but she knew that one of them had to make the first move. "I've never even dated anyone. Properly."

Fred coughed, mumbling out, "Viktor Krum" in between each cough.

"Oooh, you apparently have a type!" Harry grinned, smirking at a very flustered Hermione. She pulled one pyjama clad leg up onto the bench, resting her chin on it, letting her hair tumble down around her face.

"I can't just go to his house. But all I have is an address.."

"Merlin, you are one of the smartest witches I've ever met, but you're seriously missing the obvious right now." George grinned, accio'ing a quill and a roll of parchment. "You could write to him."

"Yeah! See what he's like, where you could meet up, and then you don't have to do the awkward turning up on his doorstep unannounced 'I'm your soul mate'." Fred tried to mimic Hermione's voice with the last part, but only ended up dissolving into a fit of giggles at the thought of her in front of Oliver Wood.

"You can talk, have you even put a cauldron of thought into how you're going to introduce yourself to Eliza? She's not going to be easy to track down y'know. And you didn't even get an address!" Hermione remarked back, already starting to write a letter to Oliver. She wasn't entirely sure what to write, which felt bizarre, because she usually felt confident in most things, but she began by asking him simple questions.

"I figure she'll just come to me." Fred said seriously, winking at his brother before Hermione could see.

"You _what?!_ Oh for Merlin's sake, you're ridiculous." She grabbed her quill and parchment and marched away from the table, needing time on her own to figure out how to introduce herself to her future husband without sounding too dull.

"Have you even _thought_ about how you're going to introduce yourself to Eliza yet?" Harry asked, spreading jam on his fourth piece of toast that morning. Ever since they'd returned home from the war, Molly Weasley had made it her personal mission to fatten the three of them up. Ron and Harry happily agreed to eating far more food than they should, although Hermione was harder to convince, she barely touched her food, pushing it round the plate with her fork to make it look like she'd eaten. Everyone could see it clear as day though, that Hermione was only just at the crux of underweight and not malnourished.

"I'm going to go to her stadium, Lee told me when they train so he said he'd take me, he's got a commentator's pass. I know it's a bit weird, just turning up to her work, but she didn't give me an address so I figure I'll have to get creative." Fred shrugged, "It's not exactly like she's got the time to come to the shop or the burrow."

* * *

Ginny awoke startled by Harry's cold but sweating body wrapped around her, he was visibly shaking so much that she knew he was having a nightmare. Ever since the war had ended and Harry had moved into the burrow, he had nightmares most nights, but it was only when Ginny slept with him did she realise how bad they were. He would frequently wake up sweating, or screaming for people to stop, muttering about Malfoy Manor or about the countless people he'd lost. As his girlfriend she wanted to do the right thing by him but she never knew if the right thing was to let him ride it out, or to wake him up, although the majority of the time her mind was made up for her when she heard him whimpering and begging to be awake. This was one of those nights. Hermione was sleeping at the burrow that night, although she hadn't gone to bed yet, but that could've been because Ginny and Harry had snuck up there early in the evening for a little alone time..

"Harry, baby. Harry.." Ginny whispered, untangling her legs and arms from his. "Wake up Harry, it's a dream. That's all it is, you're safe.. Hush, come on Harry." She was shaking him harder now, trying desperately to get him to wake up from wherever he was. "Harry Potter, wake up right now. It's Gin."

"Mhh? Gin? You ok?" Harry mumbled, startled that he had been woken up, and without his glasses he was as blind as a bat. Ginny reached over and picked them up, slipping them onto his face for him. He could see straight away that she was stressed, her worry lines prominent around her eyes, "Oh baby, come here. I'm okay."

As soon as Ginny was snuggled down into his arms, with her head on his shoulder she felt her worries for Harry slipping away a little bit, not that they would ever go completely. It just got easier, as everything did, over time. "Do you need to talk about it?"

"That's the last thing I want to do right now."

* * *

 _Oliver,_

 _Hello. I'm writing to you to introduce myself, and although it may seem a little formal, I felt that I should introduce myself properly. As you well know we have been matched, which in my mind seems bizarre because I know nothing about you. Well, not nothing. Obviously I've read a little about you in the papers, but I definitely don't trust half of the information in the prophet, nor should you about me._

 _I thought that I could tell you some things I like and dislike, and then perhaps you could tell me about yourself? I love to read, and if anyone is ever looking for me, you would generally find me in a library.. less so anymore, but that's by the by. I love apple pie on Sundays, and I love the fairground in Hyde Park that my parents used to take me to, I love the Autumn, and log fires, and I love those closest to me.. they provide comfort after everything. However I do dislike the tricks that the boys play on me. I sorely miss my cat, and although I'd never admit it to Ron, I really hate rats, but maybe that's not a story for right now._

 _I know that it's strange that we barely know each other and that we've got to be married within the year.. but I've put a great deal of thought into this and if you're willing to make it work then so am I._

 _My best wishes,_

 _Hermione_

* * *

The sun was creeping through the window a few days after Christmas, which for the Weasley's had been a quiet affair, most of the children were still reeling from the Ministry's decision to match everyone themselves instead of letting fate intervene, and those that were happy with their matches were desperately trying to prove to the others that this marriage law might not be so bad after all. Harry was lay in bed with Ginny fast asleep on his chest, watching the sun rise over the land.

"Mhh…" Ginny mumbled, in her state of asleep and waking, "Harry?" She gently lay her hand on his chest and pushed herself over so she was looking up at him, her long auburn hair tangled in a hair tie.

"Morning Gin," Harry smiled, reaching around her head gently and taking the hair tie from her hair, "How did you sleep?"

"I don't even know," her hands went to her eyes, as she rubbed the sleep out of them, blinking them slowly whilst using her finger tips to massage her temples. "I can never tell anymore, I wake up so exhausted."

"Hey hey," he slipped his hands around her slight wrists gently and pulled her hands from her head, holding them in his rough and calloused hands, "Each day as it comes. That's what we promised each other. Didn't we?"

"I know." She tried to pull her hands back, but Harry held on tighter. "I need help Harry."

"Okay."

And then they lay there, Harry's strong arms around Ginny's slight and nimble frame, with her head tucked into the crook of his neck, resting on his collarbone as if she was made to fit him perfectly, effortlessly. Occasionally a yawn would escape from Ginny as tiredness consumed her, but she wasn't, try as she might, able to fall asleep again.

* * *

Christmas came and went, WWW was back up and running and Hermione was back to her weekly routine of meetings, visits and fighting every inch of herself to leave the flat. Harry and Ron were knee deep in the restoration of half of magical England, intent on trying to fix everything else before they fixed themselves. The New Year was set to be quiet one, much like Christmas had been, though as Hermione flicked her wand at the front door of the flat she realised that it was already unlocked, which seemed strange considering that the twins should be in the shop downstairs, dealing with the crazy boxing day sales..

Hermione had moved in with the twins about six months after the war had officially ended, she felt she had outstayed her welcome at the Burrow (even though Molly and Arthur had never said) and then Fred and George had offered up the spare room in their flat. They needed the company, and she needed the room.

Walking in to the brightly coloured open plan living area she saw Fred at the kitchen island and a dark haired, broad shouldered man with his back to her leaning against the polished concrete surface. She coughed politely, and then found her voice. "Fred.. why aren't you in the shop?"

Fred looked up quickly, then smirked his cheeky I-know-something-you-don't-know smile, "Oh hello my dearest Hermione, don't you just look ravishing today love."

"What?" She took a glance down, black skinny jeans and a thick oversized grey knit with pixie boots.. not ravishing. Warm. Yes, her usual messy curls had been tamed at the hairdressers as Harry and her had been at a formal dinner last night, but there was definitely nothing different. And who was that guy in the kitchen? Why hadn't he turned round? "You're up to something."

"Me? I think you're looking for George, about my height, devilishly handsome if I do say so myself, bit of an annoying laugh though." He grabbed another mug from the shelf underneath the surface, in an attempt to calm himself down from his laughter.

Hermione dropped her bag by the couch and ran to where he was hiding, punching him in the arm a few times before she looked up and suddenly realised who the mysterious man was. "Oh fuck."

"Hermione! That is your soon to be husband, do not speak to him like that." Fred giggled inanely, loving the whole awkward-ness of the situation. As soon as Oliver had received Hermione's letter he had gotten in touch with a few people who redirected him to Fred and George, who very helpfully agreed to meet him at their apartment where Hermione had to return to at some point.

"You must be Oliver." She smiled politely, holding out her delicate hands that were bare save from one wrap around star covered ring on her middle finger.

He smirked at her quick recovery of face, "Aye. And you must be the lovely 'Ermione Granger." Shaking her hand, she realised just how similar his whole physique was to Viktor's, the firm handshake, the broad shoulders..

"Hermione. With a H, actually."

"Merlin, give the guy a break Mione, he's from Scotland." Fred quipped, noticing how her and his hand lingered a lot longer than was expected. In fact, they hadn't broken eye contact since her hand had shaken his. "My cue. Going. Bye guys!"

Neither of them even blinked at the sight of this, they were connected by some unexplainable force, only when the front door pulled shut with a bang did Hermione jump out of her staring.

"Right! Um. Tea?" A bright blush had crept up onto her cheeks as she grabbed a glass jar from the counter filled with tea bags, "Or coffee? We have coffee."

"That'd be great." Oliver replied, still, his gaze quite focussed on the slightly younger witch before him. She was stunning. He'd love to say that he remembered her from school but he didn't, only remembered her as one of the golden trio from the battle and he couldn't really recall much from that night.

Hermione giggled, looking up at Oliver with a slight sparkle in her eye. "Tea.. or coffee..?"

"Oh! Aye um, coffee. No sugar." He slowly sat on the stool by the counter, his white dinner shirt untucked, before he'd met Fred at the apartment he'd been out for lunch with his parents who were down from Scotland for a few days. His mum had never really shown a keen interest to watch one of his matches before so he'd decided to make an effort at lunch in an attempt to convince her to go tomorrow night. Once Hermione was done making a coffee and a tea she brought them over to where he was sat and seated herself on the stool opposite, acutely aware at how her knee brushed against his and how much bigger he seemed.

After a few long sips of drinks, the silence seemed insurmountable. "I'm sorry I came down here like this."

"Sorry?" Hermione choked out.

"Yea, barged into your home like this an didn't warn you." Oliver placed his mug back down on the counter, "It's just I sat down to reply to your letter, y'know pen and paper. And I couldn't think of anything."

"Oh.. I didn't mean to pressure you, or make it bigger than it is. I just knew that one of us was going to have to make the first contact.. and I'm not very good at waiting." She smiled a little, drawing her hands closer around her mug. Her eyes scanned his angular face, warm brown eyes, the little laughter lines on his forehead, then to his broad shoulders with the white dinner shirt, slightly undone at the collar, sleeves rolled up. And that's when she saw it. "You have a tattoo?"

He hadn't looked down, "No. I'd love to get one but the team has a pretty strict policy, of no body modifications on show."

"Um.. What's this then?" She gently touched his arm where the faintest of lines that wrapped around his skin showed, they were predominantly black with one ravenclaw blue, a bright red and a slightly aqua coloured blue was emerging. They looped and twisted around each other but didn't fully reach around the whole of his wrist, like a part was missing.

As Oliver looked down he did a double take, that wasn't his. He definitely hadn't been drunk enough to have gotten it last night, and he was certain that wasn't there when he got up this morning.

"I'm as lost as you are, but.. considering that you've got it as well I think it has something to do with this marriage law." And slowly but surely Oliver was right, bands of colour were appearing on Hermione's wrist, but never quite meeting.

"Have they got the right to do that..?" She whispered, watching the colour grow stronger on either of their wrists until Oliver's appeared to have stopped.

"Well it's happened now.. Can't get rid of it." Oliver's knee brushed against Hermione's and he felt that same spark he had when they'd shook hands, "Nor would I want to." He quickly caught her eye, trying to imply to her that they could do this, if they were made to be then they were made to be.

"Do you want to get some food? I've been in meetings all day and I don't think I've eaten since we got these letters." Hermione smiled nervously, she wanted to encourage him to stay, to spend more time together, she had this feeling in her stomach that she never wanted to get rid of him.

"That was over four days ago." Oliver's jaw almost hit the floor, "Were you joking?"

Hermione's nervous smile faltered slightly and before she even answered Oliver knew.

"Right. What sort of take away should we get then?"

"Oh I think you and I are going to be just fine," she grinned, getting up at the same time as him and then awkwardly finding herself stood an inch away from his chest, looking up at him.

"Oh I think we are." He whispered back, unable to lose contact with her eyes.

"Dah dah dah dah!"

"Duh duh duh duh!"

"Dah dah dah dah da la dah lan dun dun..!"

Fred and George came singing and screaming into the flat, bellowing their new found love: the muggle band the Proclaimers and their one hit wonder '500 miles'. Both of them stopped at exactly the same moment, Oliver and Hermione were stood interlocked, in their own little bubble. The twins quickly glanced at each other, telepathically wondering if they should quietly back out of the flat like they never existed, or wait until the two new love birds emerged out of their world. The answer quickly appeared for them.

"Oh! Boys. We're getting take away, would you like some?" Hermione smiled, moving ever so slightly away from Oliver. Oliver didn't move far, fighting a desire to place his hand on the small of her back and shout to the world that Hermione Granger was going to be his wife.

"Us?"

"Take away?"

Oliver laughed hesitantly, "Yeah.. Unless you have some other brothers waiting around the corner?"

"Don't joke, they're regular visitors." Hermione giggled, staring expectantly at the two ginger men in front of her. "So what will it be? Your cooking or take away?"

"Yep yep, sounds good. Forge?"

"Great with me Gred."

Oliver slipped away from behind Hermione, brushing himself against her as he did, he took both mugs over to the sink and started to wash them up, letting Hermione go over to her flat mates and grab them both by the hand, dragging them into her bedroom.

"What the hell was that?"

"We just.."

"Well you two.."

"You're what?" She did everything but stomp her foot, though she was decidedly shorter than Fred and George she was menacing when she wanted to be. And just at that instance she heard someone come through the floo, considering that it was only Oliver in the main room she rushed towards the door, but not before taking a look back at the twins. "This. Is not over."

They mock saluted her, following each other out of the softly furnished bedroom.

"Uh, Harry?"

"Oliver! How are you doing? Wait no, what are you doing here?" Hermione laughed as Harry and Oliver engaged in some sort of male dominance, hugging situation where they slapped each other on the back - although Oliver was larger and much more athletic than Harry, even with his auror training.

"Came to meet the lovely Hermione Granger, see if she's all she cracks up to be in the papers." Oliver glanced over at Hermione with a twinkle in his eye, she knew that this was the start of a long running joke, but she wouldn't have wanted it any other way.

"Oh no, she's much crazier than they make out in the papers." Harry winked, going over to Hermione and wrapping his arms around her tightly. She squeezed him back, still not over the feel of him being alive and safe every day. "How are you doing Mione?"

She whispered into his shoulder, "I'm okay." Once he had let her go she smiled again, mainly for Oliver's benefit, "I shouldn't be at a dinner or something right now should I? Because I'm only just getting over that awful thing we went to last night."

"Benefit for wounded pygmy puffs was it?" Fred piped up.

"Or charity gala in aid of the broomsticks lost to the war?" George grinned. It was one of their favourite past times to mock the events that Ron, Harry and Hermione had to attend, due to them being the 'Golden Trio.'

"Ha ha, hilarious boys. I think it was something much more bland than that though. Kingsley sent us in his place.. Ron got out of it, he's in Morocco." Hermione filled in the twins, who she hadn't seen for breakfast this morning as she'd already had to dash out for a meeting. "However, I didn't actually touch the food, and we were meant to order over half an hour ago now.. so Harry, make this quick. _Please."_

 _"_ Why doesn't he stay?" Oliver offered, leaning against the counter by Hermione's side like he'd been there all along.

"Amazing, cheers Wood. What are we having?"

Hermione rolled her eyes, her and Oliver's romantic meeting had now been hijacked by the twins and her best friend, all she needed now was for Ron to mysteriously appear from Morocco and they'd be all covered. Instead, the evening was spent with thai food from the local muggle place, and embarrassing stories from everyone about the soon to be wed couple's adolescences.


	3. Chapter 3

**_The Moment They Knew_**

Hermione rolled over in her queen sized bed, pulling the silky smooth sheets over her face in a bid to keep the light that was streaming through the large windows well and truly out. Her and Oliver had been awake til 3am talking and sharing stories about their lives, until neither of them could keep their eyes open and he remembered that he had a match to play. He had jumped in the floo, after gently kissing her forehead, and she had slumped into bed blissfully happy. Normally, she would have accused someone of slipping a potion into her drink at the thought of her being this deliriously happy with someone she had only just met, but George, Fred and Harry all gave him glowing references: they assured her that he was one of the good guys.

 _Rappa tap, tap._

"GO AWAY!" She called from underneath her quilts, to which Fred and George came marching in anyway. They stood, in matching denim jeans, and different coloured thick over jackets with England scarves wrapped around their necks. Their flame red hair matching their bright orange socks that Hermione could have bet galleons on had been darned by Mrs Weasley herself.

"Why aren't you out of bed?" Fred tilted his head to the side, completely confused.

"Hermione, we don't want to go to this quidditch match. You insisted." George grinned, completely covering his lies with a cheeky smile and folded arms in mock anger.

"What quidditch match.." Hermione mumbled, pulling the duvet away slightly, but only so her head popped out of the top, her mop of mousy brown curls spread all over the pillows. "OH FUCK!"

She quickly dived out of bed, wearing only a strappy burnt orange top and baggy silk black and white patterned shorts, the twins grinned, wolf whistling at her.

"Oh merlin no, both of you. Get. Out!" She laughed, grabbing her wand, ready to hex them if they didn't budge. But because they knew her so well they bolted from the room as fast as they could, letting Hermione rush through the rack of clothes to decide what appropriate quidditch watching clothes were. She never acted like this. "Pull yourself together, idiot."

Five minutes later she emerged into the main room, boyfriend jeans, chunky oversized black knit and thick oversized camel jacket with her trusty black high top converse. Fred and George were sat on the couch, one with a plate and a slice of marmalade covered toast, the other with a mug of what she presumed would be tea, both of them chatting away about Eliza McGonagall and the upcoming match that they were going to be watching from the players box.

"For me?" Hermione smiled, taking the mug of tea from Fred and politely taking a bite of the toast and putting it back. "I ate a lot last night. Very bloated." She lied through her teeth, and though they all knew she was lying, they all didn't have time for the fight this morning.

"Hurry hurry, we've got to go!" George jumped up, popping the plate down on the side in the kitchen and slipping his wand into his pocket. Hermione downed her tea and made sure that she had her wand in the inside of her jacket pocket, along with a vial of calming potion. She couldn't even leave the house without one, if any situation became too much she relied on it to calm her down. Fred and George didn't know. In fact, no one but Harry and Ron knew.

"Are we meeting Harry there?"

Fred and George looked up from the floo instructions Oliver had left, "Yep. Now, we're flooing to the stadium's main arrivals area. There are going to be a shit tonne of people, just preparing you."

"I can do it."

She took a confident step into the floo and threw the powder down, shouting the address she quickly emerged out of the other end into crowds of people all filing into their different entrances for the match. Hermione couldn't see the twins anywhere, there was a loud buzz of chatter amongst excited Great Britain and Romanian quidditch fans, which was only making her anxiety worse. But then, out of no where, she felt someone grab her and pull her out of the crowds of people.

"Hermione! It's me." Harry pulled his hat up slightly, showing his face to her. "Sorry. Shouldn't have grabbed you, but I didn't want you to get swept up."

Hermione still hadn't opened her eyes, she was slowly trying to regulate her breathing, clutching at her chest. "Right. Harry. Okay." Opening her eyes, she saw her best friend wrapped up in so many layers that he was unrecognisable. Her hand slipped into the pocket of her jacket as she took out a calming vial, "You don't mind?"

"Oh, not at all. Had one before I came out."

She knocked it back and instantly felt the warmth rush through her body, Harry hugged her tight to steady her, as he noticed the twins emerging through a fireplace. "The twins, behind us." He whispered before beckoning them over, and in no time at all the four of them were making their introductions to Oliver's father, they'd made it through the security wards and were now in the players box. Mr Wood was informing them that Oliver usually popped his head around the door before the match, more to rest his conscious than to be polite, so the group should be expecting him any minute.

"Big fan of quidditch then Hermione?" Mr Wood commented, standing with a drink in one hand and surveying the other people in the box. They hadn't yet taken their seats as the hospitality area was much warmer and provided drinks and snacks, which the twins had found great delight in partaking in.

It was Harry that was stood at Hermione's side, who smirked as soon as Mr Wood spoke, and refrained from saying 'No, more a fan of the keeper.'

"Well I never used to fly, but I always used to watch Gryffindor, especially since this troll played seeker from his first year. Didn't you Harry?" Hermione quickly deflected, knowing that if Harry loved anything, it was talking about his quidditch playing days.

"Oh Merlin, yes. Loved it! Your son was an excellent captain, sir."

"We're all hoping he will make an excellent captain again soon. There's rumour that the captain is stepping down.. you know," Mr Wood lent in whispering, "Apparently his wife is pregnant, so he'll be retiring back to Wales.."

"Really? They retire so young?" Hermione asked in surprise, she knew that the captain was no older than 35.

"Gosh yes, with the amount of injuries they have they wouldn't be able to cope much longer than that. Keeper's are even worse."

Hermione took a big gulp, looking around the room, before noticing that Oliver had appeared at the door. She grinned as he walked over to them, quickly hugging her and kissing her cheek, then shaking Harry and his father's hands.

"Your Dad said you might pop in." She smiled up at him, "Nervous?"

"Nay. But.. you are?" Oliver raised an eyebrow, "Don't be. They're no where near as rough as they used to be."

"No! The Romanians back in my youth would fire hexes from secret people in the crowd, bloody awful if I do say so myself." Mr Wood remarked, shaking his head as if remembering the sour days of foul play within the quidditch community. "No no, they're much better than they used to be."

Oliver chuckled at his Dad, "Where's Mum ay? Decided not to brave the cold after all?"

"Oh, I'm sorry Ollie. She wanted to come. But.. there was some emergency, or something back home."

"With work?"

"I think so, she was very vague. But she said she'd come and visit to make up for it." Mr Wood grimaced, "Though I don't think that quite makes it better.."

Oliver laughed, though Harry and Hermione both felt increasingly awkward - Hermione couldn't tell if Oliver had a good relationship with his mother or not, and Harry never understood parental relationships, with his lack of one. And then, the final bell rang in the box that signalled that all players should now be in the dressing rooms ready for the match.

Oliver glanced up, "Well that's me. Oh, and Hermione. I have something for you." He smiled shyly, pulling his England scarf from his neck and wrapping it around hers. "Perfect. I'll see you when it's over?"

She grinned, looking up at him. "We could go to yours? Get take out?" He nodded in reply, waving to them as he ran from the room. She called quickly, "Good luck!" to which he winked and ran down the hallway with one of his team mates to the dressing rooms.

* * *

The match was, in Hermione's eyes, uneventful until the last quarter. But for the men she was watching it with, it was nothing but them jumping up and down in their seats and screaming for the home team, and screaming at the Romanian team. She usually loved quidditch, but she couldn't stop worrying, as she had for Harry and Ron at school, for Oliver. He was playing an incredible game, which meant that the score was only 75-10 to them, but that didn't come without some near fatal misses.

Mr Wood didn't seem to have sat down for more than two seconds at a time, each pass of the quaffle or whoop from the commentator got him out of his seat and swinging his scarf around his head; Fred and George were trying their hardest to match his excitement but it just couldn't be done. Though that all ceased when the GB seeker had caught sight of the snitch, as Hermione glanced down the row, all four men were sat on the edge of their seats, quiet as a mouse, watching and listening to the game with an eager eye. They only seemed to breath in when the commentator spoke of how close the Romanian seeker was to the British girl, the two of them were ducking and diving through the arches underneath the away stand, out of view for a large amount of the time, but then, with a triumphant scream from Mr Wood, the British seeker had emerged, arm outstretched, with a golden snitch closely clasped in her glove covered hand. Hermione and the rest of the boys jumped up in glee, hugging each other tight and shouting in delight, celebrating with the rest of the team's family and friends.

Though the moment was short lived. Suddenly the whole stadium fell quiet. Had they missed something? Did she not catch the snitch? Was somebody injured? Hermione surveyed the field, players were guiding their brooms towards the ground, all towards one person in particular. And then it was Fred that said it, right before the commentator.

"Wood's down."

"What?" Harry quickly replied, looking through his binoculars - irritatingly though, Fred wasn't wrong. It was Oliver that was lying on the ground with his arm at an angle that rivalled his in second year.

"AND WOOD IS DOWN, GREAT BRITAIN'S KEEPER OLIVER WOOD APPEARS TO HAVE BEEN HIT BY A ROGUE BLUDGER, OR PERHAPS AN ILLEGAL BLUDGER - IT APPEARS - IT APPEARS TO BE THAT HE HAS A DISLOCATED SHOULDER WHICH IS WHY HIS ARM IS SO OUT OF PLACE FOLKS! WELL HERE'S FOR A ROUND UP…."

No one was listening after that, Mr Wood and Hermione were rushing together down the flights of stairs from the players box and onto the pitch. They had both quickly caught up with the gaggle of players that Mr Wood had met a handful of times before, along with one of Oliver's best friends on the team. Somehow, Mr Wood had choked out, "Where is he?" Even though he himself was near heart attack after that sprint.

Oliver was being escorted on a stretcher through the players tunnel, so Hermione grabbed Mr Wood's arm and pulled him towards where the medics were casting intricate healing spells over Oliver's arm, it already looked completely different to how it had only a few minutes before when he had been sprawled on the grass. This calmed Hermione's nerves only slightly. They followed the stretcher right into the injury wing, at which point two guards asked them who they were.

"This is his father, and I'm his well, I'm his fiancee. Just let us in!" Hermione shouted at them, which Mr Wood couldn't quite believe, though it seemed to work the trick, as the doors opened and they were able to enter into the brightly lit room with three temporary beds, one with the curtains drawn around it.

"Hermione?" Oliver called out, laughing breathily.

"Oh thank Merlin." She smiled, as they entered into the bed area, where Oliver's shoulder had been magically taped up, and his arm positioned into a sling that was securely bound to his chest. He was shirtless as they'd had to cut it off him, but his hair was floppy and his smile was beaming. "You told me I didn't need to worry."

"Well, this has never happened before, right Dad?"

Mr Wood raised both eyebrows, "Now that's not technically true, boy."

"Aye, have I ever dislocated my shoulder before?"

"No. But you have broken your leg.. popped a vertebrae.. suffered a concussion.." Mr Wood was ticking them off on his fingers as he went, not even aware that Hermione's jaw was dropping lower and lower each time.

"Is this what I'm getting myself into?"

"I'm afraid so Miss Granger. I really struggle staying on my broom. Especially when there are illegal bludgers being thrown around.."

* * *

The sun had set hours before, which Hermione remembered vividly, as she had been convincing Mr Wood that she would be able to get Oliver home safe and would make sure that he had a decent meal and plenty of sleep, and it was not until then that they were allowed to leave the injury unit of the stadium. All of the team had been to check on him, along with the manager who had had a stern word with him and then told him that she would be filing a suit against the Romanian team for foul play.

But they were now back at Oliver's flat, in Knightsbridge, where Oliver had changed into grey sweats and a tight white t shirt, and Hermione had lost her jacket and trainers and was sat on the floor with him, helping him to eat Chinese take out.

"Is this what the rest of our lives are going to be like?" he joked, as she had helped him grab a prawn dumpling with chop sticks. She smiled, laughing as she shook her head.

"If you keep injuring yourself like this, making me worry. I'll put in a good word at the Ministry and have a mysterious swap. Maybe I'll get a banker or something." she grinned, sticking her tongue out at him.

"You're Hermione Granger. Aye, if you wanted to swap, you could swap."

"And there's the thing. I don't think I'd want to swap." She looked down, still with the GB scarf wrapped around her neck, even though Oliver had lit the fire and it was plenty warm enough in his victorian apartment. Earlier, he'd given her a quick tour of his home which was beautifully decorated, with three bedrooms and a large bathroom with a roll top tub. There was a separate kitchen and living room that led off of the hallway, and at the end of that hallway was a dark wood staircase that led up to the three bedrooms and bathroom. "Will you be okay?"

"Me?" Oliver smiled, amused at the sentiment. He'd never really had a serious girlfriend, he'd never wanted one. Girls typically left before he woke up in the morning, and they certainly didn't ask if he was 'ok'.

"Nope, I was concerned for my other future husband. He's much more attractive than you." Hermione grinned, taking a sip of her green tea.

"Right. Sarcasm. You're going to try and out sarcasm a Scot?"

"My parents were dentists. No one can understand that level of sarcasm."

"They were what?" Oliver tilted his head, bemused. He couldn't keep his eyes off of her, her wild hair tamed back into a messy bun, sans make up with his scarf wrapped around her neck. In his eyes, she was the most beautiful girl he'd ever seen, yet nothing like the girl he'd usually go for.

"Oliver?" She waved a hand in front of his face, "Hellooo?"

He shook his head and blinked a few times, "Sorry yeah. I was just lost for a minute there."

"I think that pain potion is finally getting to you. I'll let you get some rest, or I think your father would kill me." She started to pack up the Chinese and put it into the brown paper bags it had arrived in, then slowly got up, wiggling her toes and stretching her arms from being sat on the rug in front of the fire for so long.

"No don't.. I'm more than awake."

"We've got our whole lives. Come on you, I'll clean this up and you can get my coat." She smiled, trying her best to help him get up, but she was less of a help and more a pretty face, his left arm was strong enough to pull himself up by himself.

"I don't have a floo, by the way. You can apparate though."

"Is it muggle?" She gasped, she hadn't been in a muggle house since her parents.. her childhood home. That explained the aga in the kitchen, the working bathtub with actual taps and plumbing.

"Yeah, it belonged to my grandfather's brother, he was a squib. He left it in the family but no one wanted a muggle flat in London, until me." Oliver smiled sheepishly, and then as he went to pick up a bag of Chinese rubbish he moaned in pain, his sling shifting and moving his shoulder awkwardly.

"Stop it. Let me take care of you." She took the bags from the floor, and sent them to the kitchen bin with a flick of her wand, "Was that so difficult eh?"

"Nay. Alright. Okay."

They walked out of the warm and cosy living room into the dark hallway, standing by the front door, Hermione went to take the scarf from her neck to return it to Oliver. She suddenly became aware of every sound, every smell in the darkened space. It was as if this was the last time she would ever experience it, the idea that this could be where she lived one day hadn't even crossed her mind as she stood gulping in the remnants of Oliver Wood.

"Keep it." He rubbed the back of his head, almost like he didn't know what to say but in the same breath, knew exactly what he wanted to say. "What's mine is yours."

"Oliver.." she still had her hands around the scarf, rubbing the worn down material between her thumb and forefinger. "That's the sweetest thing I think anyone's ever said to me."

They were stood inches apart, and he wouldn't have done it if the moment hadn't been exactly perfect. His lips touched hers so briefly, yet her hand slipped to his neck and she kissed him back, everything in that moment screaming that they were going to be okay, and that this marriage was not going to be forced upon them. But before he knew it Hermione was mumbling about it all being so soon, stepping out of the front door and apparating back to her and the twins' flat, before she could even think about what she'd done or if she was too presumptuous.

* * *

"Giiiiiin." Hermione groaned, throwing her head back dramatically for the third time since they'd begun their walk through the fields near the Burrow. Hermione had arrived unannounced and dragged Ginny from Harry's arms, insisting that they needed to talk, out of the Burrow, and no, Harry could not come with them. That had done the trick and five minutes later Ginny had dressed in thick winter clothes, pulling her boots on at the back door. Harry had gone back to sleep.

"I don't quite know what the problem is. He's going to be your husband one day, and you'll have to do a lot more than kiss." Ginny grinned, her rampant teenage brain getting the better of her. "If you know what I mean." If possible, her cheshire cat like smile only grew wider, and once she caught Hermione's eye she winked.

"Oh dear merlin please get that image out of my head."

"Of you and Wood?" Ginny smirked.

"No. Of you and Harry," Hermione whacked her friend over the arm and then folded her arms back into her jacket, Oliver's GB scarf still securely wrapped around her neck. "Honestly, I just don't know how to face him. I just left. Like, opened the door, apparated, and poof I was gone. Poor guy probably didn't have time to blink."

"You're an idiot." Ginny laughed, shaking her long auburn hair off her shoulders, and pulling at a few split ends that had fallen into her vision. "But luckily for you, you're also completely stunning, intelligent, funny and terrifying. Plus. You've got those tattoo's now, you're well and truly stuck with each other."

As she let what Ginny said sink in, and also let her face stop blushing, she thought again about how she had run off, stupidly. "I know. But it doesn't mean that I'm not completely humiliated and wishing the ground would swallow me whole."

Cocking her head to one side, Ginny raised an eyebrow. "What?"

"Ugh. Not literally. Muggle phrase. Harry uses it!"

"I don't listen to him." Ginny sighed as she saw Hermione's fraught and worried face, the lines appearing around her eyebrows when she was heavily focussing on something; she looped her arm through Ginny's and snuggled in close to her as they walked along the frozen forest soil. "Look, from what you've told me so far, you and Wood have gotten off to the best start you possibly could considering you don't know each other and you're being forced into this. One kiss? It's not too soon if it felt right, which you've said it did, and he's going to understand that you then chickened out a little. He is a good guy. Harry vouches for him, and you know how protective Harry is of you. Plus.. when you were talking about him, you couldn't wipe that stupid smile off of your face, and it's been far too long, Hermione Granger, that I've seen you smile like that."

Hermione hmm'd in response, eternally grateful for the ginger haired minx that loved her best friend. She was the sister she never knew she needed, but couldn't live without. "Do you have to go back to school?"

"I do. It's important. I have a quidditch team to captain." Ginny smiled, but it was a sad-happy smile. Somewhere in between the complete elation she knew she'd feel when she was back on that pitch, captaining the team that she'd grown up with, and the unmarred feeling of being back at the battle grounds. Going to sleep at night with one less person in her dormitory, or attending classes with empty chairs where there had once been bright, bubbly students, or even grumpy ones - no one had deserved to die that night.

"Are you worried?"

"Ginny Weasley? Worry? Pff. Who do you think I am?"

And with that they turned around to go back to the Burrow, the late rising winter sun only just hitting the sky, if she was lucky she'd be able to slide back into bed beside Harry and hold onto him for just a little longer until she told him that she was going back to school.

The fights that followed were nothing to do with anger, they came from a place of love and fear, that they were going to be split up again, and that neither would know if the other were safe at all times. That fear that they'd been able to sideline since the war had ended, it was creeping back, like the enemy they'd been aware of the whole time, but unwilling to acknowledge. As Ginny had screamed at Harry across her bedroom, and as Harry had calmly, but coldly replied, they both knew that this fight was out of fear of what was going to happen next. And then, even more importantly, as Ginny had cried, Harry had held her, tighter than he'd ever held onto someone, as if all the love in the world could stop the pain and the fear that the two of them felt at being separated again.


	4. Chapter 4

_A/N: Hi everyone! I realise I haven't actually done this yet but this is my new-ish fic, I'm so excited for you all to read it and I hope you enjoy it as much as I've enjoyed writing it._

 _ **Came to say goodbye**_

"Go on then Gin! You first.. yes yes, then you boys, Hermione.." Mrs Weasley co-ordinated the running of the barrier, as she did every year as her children boarded the Hogwarts Express. Everyone was there to see Ginny off, even Ron who had appeared back from his duties in Morocco a day earlier than planned (Harry had owled to say that Ginny was leaving, but hadn't expected Ron to actually return home).

As they stood on the platform, the whole crowd of people that had come to see Ginny off found things to talk about or people to talk to so that Harry and her could have five minutes of solitude before she left for the term, and they inevitably were apart again.

"You're sure you really have to do this?"

"Harry, don't do this again." She sighed, running her hand through her long auburn hair once more, and tossing it over her shoulder. His jersey from third year was just small enough to fit her, so as a going-away-but-you-have-to-come-back gift, Harry had given it to her. She layered it on top of a long grey turtle neck, black skinny jeans and short leather boots with gold heels. He hadn't wanted her to leave, but when he saw her in his jersey, he hadn't even been able to let her out of his sight.

"I'm sorry. I know. I just.. being with you again." He mumbled, looking at his feet, aware that if he looked her in the eye he'd probably want to cry, or kidnap her and keep her from what she had to do. She had to go back to school and complete her education, so that she could start her life, no one could let what happened continue to damage their lives, and Harry would be the most angry out of everyone if any other person put their lives on hold because of Voldemort.

She reached up and wrapped an arm around his neck, and one around his waist, her hand gently resting against his skin, pushing her fingers around the little bit of hair that sat at the nape of his neck. He instinctively hugged her back, resting his head into the crook of her neck.

"We're going to be fine." She whispered, assuring herself more than she was assuring him.

"Of course we are." He whispered back, untangling himself and kissing her forehead sweetly. It wouldn't help matters if they were snapped kissing, published all over the front pages of the Prophet the following morning. Everyone was aware, but it was unspoken largely, Ginny, whilst now 18, was still at school, and Harry was the golden boy. There were just some things that were much better left unsaid. "Your friends are waiting for you, go. I'll be fine."

"You better cry for days." Ginny grinned, tears in her eyes though as the rest of her family swarmed around Harry and her. "Mione, make sure he cries. I want to know that you're sad that I'm gone." She tried to laugh, but it looked more like she was about to sob, so her Mum hugged her one last time, and her Dad kissed her cheek and told her to be good, and she boarded the train. She couldn't look back, not at all of the happy, shining people that she was leaving behind - it had dawned on her earlier that morning when she hadn't been able to sleep that she'd not been enrolled at Hogwarts without another of her family there, and that unfamiliarity scared her. But she knew that she always had her home, and that this wasn't forever.

"Should we go and get a drink?" Fred asked, looking around at the rest of the Weasley family - Ron, George and Hermione nodded, along with Bill and Fleur, but Harry shook his head, looking anywhere but at the group.

"I think I just need some time on my own, think about how it's going to be now she's not around."

Ron clapped his best friend on the back as they left the station, "It'll be okay mate. We're all here, and she'll be back before you know it."

"Thanks, yeah, thanks Ron. Right. I'll see you both tomorrow at that meeting with Kingsley.. Mione?"

She smiled sadly and gave him a big hug, on her tiptoes to ensure that she could squeeze him tight and close to her. "See you then."

* * *

Just as Ron, Hermione and Harry got up to leave Kingsley's office he spoke up, "Ron, a word?" He looked uncomfortable, like he had to deliver bad news, but when Ron, Hermione and Harry all hung back, he looked even more uncomfortable. "In private, I'm afraid. It will only take a minute."

"No it's okay, you can say that I've been called to mission in front of these guys, it doesn't bother me or them." Ron sighed, rubbing the back of his neck, he sincerely hoped he hadn't been called back to mission, he'd only come back from Morocco a couple of days ago..

"Hermione, Harry. Take a step outside. This is confidential." Kingsley ordered, gesturing for Ron to take a seat once more. The two of them hastily opened the grand door and waited outside, as instructed by the Minister, not wanting to get onto his bad side, not that Harry had ever really witnessed whatever that was.

"I'm sorry Minister, but I don't quite understand what's going on.." Ron scanned the room, checked his desk quickly: nothing out of the ordinary. Until Kingsley took his seat again, and opened his desk draw with a flick of his wrist (Ron always knew that the Minister had been able to do wandless magic, even though Kingsley denied it adamantly).

"I think you should read this. I'm aware that you know the consequences for a witch or wizard that does not meet their assigned match." He handed Ron the slightly crumpled letter from the Ministry department for matching wizards and witches. Ron thought he'd seen the last of it when he threw it on the fire in Morocco.

"Uh.. I um, I?"

"Things have a funny way of catching up with you." Kingsley sighed, locking the desk draw again, and waiting patiently for Ron to open the letter. "If you don't open it now, how will I ever know you've opened it?"

"Right."

He pulled the wax seal from the envelope, carefully sliding the piece of parchment out and unfolding it, he scanned his eye across the neatly written format until he reached the name of his match.

 _Dr. Daniel Turbs_

An address and some other pieces of contact information lay beneath the name, but Ron didn't read it. He kept rereading the name that was firmly written on the page, clear as day.

"I think, I think I'm going to go now. Yep. I'm leaving." He folded the letter back up, stuffed it back into the envelope and rushed towards the door, but before he could make it out Kingsley coughed.

"They don't make mistakes, Ron, I'm sure you are aware of that."

Ron ignored Harry and Hermione as they asked what Kingsley had wanted, and he ignored them as he picked up pace and finally ended up running through the corridors of the Ministry, past the grand fountain in the central hall and then ignored them as he dived into one of the floo networks and shouted a destination which neither Harry or Hermione had ever heard of.

"What was that about?" Hermione choked out, holding her stomach as she breathed heavily, physical exercise hadn't ever really been her thing and after chasing Ron down, she remembered exactly why.

"No fucking clue. He's literally been back two days and he's running off." Harry shook his head, trying not to laugh at the state Hermione had gotten herself into. "Come on Mione, let's go get a coffee and try to figure out where the troll's gone."

"Fine." She choked out another breath, "Muggle. I hate that wizarding crap."

"Preaching to the choir, let's go."

* * *

"So how was sleeping alone?" Hermione smiled a little at Harry, they were curled up in the back corner of a London coffee shop. The walls were lined in books, and large leather chairs were crammed around small tables and fireplaces. They'd managed to get themselves two high back chairs opposite an open fire, and the shop's cat had immediately made a bee line for Hermione and was now comfortably curled up in her lap. She could get used to it here.

"It was fine." Harry smirked slightly, pushing his glasses up his nose further and running his hand through his hair, the faint lightning scar glimpsing through at Hermione. She glanced away, she hated seeing it, and she probably always would. "Lots of space. I could, you know, spread out and stuff."

"Riiiiiight." She rolled her eyes, smoothing out her suede tan skirt and pulling at her knitted tights that had bunched around her knees. "You can't hide from me Potter, we shared a tent. You're a cuddler."

"Fuck off." He muttered, leaning towards the low coffee table and picking up his coffee mug, "Why don't we move onto another topic? Perhaps.. Oh, I don't know. How you and Wood kissed and then you, now what were the words Ginny used? Oh yes. You 'poofed'?"

It was Hermione's turn to uncomfortably fidget now, "Dammit Weasley. Why can't any of them keep a secret?"

"It's one of their many talents. I discovered it very quickly. Now, back to you and Oliver."

"I don't want to talk about it." She huffed, tossing her thick curls over her shoulder.

"You're asking for it now." Harry chuckled, just as the cat on Hermione's lap purred as the young witch curled a finger under their furry chin. "You could've come to me you know, I am male."

"Yes, thank you Harry. I'm well aware, that you are in fact, a male."

"Well come on then! Talk to me about it."

"I just feel like an idiot. We were getting on so well and then I just up and left as soon as we kissed. I don't want him to think less of me or anything."

"Merlin.. he's really got under your skin hasn't he?"

She smiled shyly, looking down at the cat on her lap and tickling their belly as they rolled over.

"What happened to my Mione? My, a witch bows to no man, Mione?" Harry raised a bushy eyebrow above his glasses, reaching his hand out to her. She slipped her hand into his and smiled gratefully as he squeezed it tight. "I know you're scared, we all are. But you.. You deserve every happiness that comes your way, and you are an incredible person. You're stunning yes, but there's more than that, your intelligence is lethal. And I just know that Oliver has been waiting for you."

Hermione looked up at the ceiling, trying to contain the tears that had welled up in her eyes. It was this friendship that she couldn't live without, he had gotten so much better at knowing exactly what to say and when, knowing when to hug her and when to let her blow off steam.

"Should I go and see him?"

"What do you want to do?"

"I need a bit more time." Hermione shrugged gently and let go of Harry's hand, cocooning her hands around the warm ceramic mug. "You know, just to get my head around things."

"He'll understand, he's good like that." Harry smiled, "Why do you think our Ron ran off then?"

"I have no idea.. But, I think it could be to do with his match."

"Huh? I thought he hadn't read the letter?"

"I'm not sure, but I think that's what Kingsley wanted. When he came out of the office, he was clutching this envelope, and it had the Ministry stamp on it. That letter looked exactly like mine."

"How bad can it have been? To run through the Ministry? Come on, Ron doesn't run." Harry laughed uncomfortably, both of them wracking their brains as to what could possibly have made Ron freak out so badly.

"Maybe he got Malfoy." Hermione joked, well aware that Ron was straight, after his short term love of Lavender Brown.


	5. Chapter 5

_**Scars Represent Survival**_

"Hey boys," Oliver looked up, somewhat nervously he walked into the WWW shop, the purple muggle bell dinging as he entered, thwarting his plans to keep under the radar - he'd already had to walk through Diagon Alley and been snapped by photographers, Wood was rarely seen out in public, either on the pitch, fell running to keep fit, or at home with his cat and a book, generally on quidditch, but that was by the by. Though this cold January morning, six days after Hermione had fled his apartment, he had decided to locate her. His first stop: the Weasley twins shop. He knew she worked there, or helped the boys out or something, so he presumed that that would be a good starting point. "Is Hermione around?"

Fred quickly glanced at George, _did she want to see Wood? Are we going to get killed if we tell him where she is? Oh come on, she's got to stop avoiding him - they're getting married. You're right Gred, let's tell him._

"She's in the back, let me show you the way." Fred smiled, looking Oliver up and down - he'd changed a lot since their school days, he'd let his hair grow out a little for one, it was now slightly curly and unruly, with a dark haired scruff around his face to match, and he'd clearly let someone else influence his sense of style. Gone were the turtle necks and battered corduroys, he was now wearing dark blue denim jeans, rolled up a little above his lace up leather boots, and a grey band top with a battered denim jacket over the top. Fred couldn't help but wonder if he'd dressed to impress Hermione.. Once they reached the black and yellow striped door, Fred knocked their secret knock to let Hermione know that it was one of the twins, before he ran and hid on another side of the store, leaving only Oliver sheepishly kicking at the exposed floor panels.

"BOYS THIS REALLY ISN'T A GREAT TI- Oliver?" She shouted, then as soon as she opened the door her voiced dropped to a whisper, her hair was loosely tied back, purple and black smudges all over her face, and an ankle length, maroon flame proof apron was tied around her to protect her from the potion that was currently brewing on the stove in the work room.

"I, um," he scratched at the back of his neck awkwardly, "I thought if I didn't come and find you, then I'd never see you again." He found that all his confidence and ego that he'd gained over the past few years quickly disappeared in one quick moment, as if all his hook ups and casual dates didn't ever happen and he wasn't able to charm anyone with his quick Scottish wit or athleticism.

"You better come in." She smiled softly, ushering him into the work room and shutting, and most importantly locking, the door behind him. "Should I just be honest with you?"

He sighed thankfully as he sat himself down on one of the bright blue metal stools, "Thank Merlin. I didn't realise girls could do that anymore."

She raised an eyebrow quickly as she pulled the bobble out of her hair and let her curls fall down her back, _who had hurt him?_ "I was embarrassed." She pushed her home made ceramic mug across the work bench, out of her way, and then propped herself up on her elbows, she'd been stood up brewing the potion for the past two hours and she ached a little.

"Of what?"

"I'm not sure really. But we had this great.. I don't know, moment, those first two days with you were magical, more than I could have ever expected and then when we kissed.." she blushed brightly, and Oliver did everything in his power not to pull her towards him and kiss her right there, "I just felt like such an idiot for running out, and not saying anything, and then as the days crept on afterwards I felt even more embarrassed and I guess it all just spiralled."

"Bloody hell." He chuckled, much to Hermione's confusion, "Is this what I've got to get used to?"

"Well, I'm not entirely sure I know what you mean."

"Snowballing your worries until they're bigger than they need to be?"

She stared down at her feet, brushing one against the other, "Maybe."

"You had no reason to be embarrassed, maybe I pushed it all a little too soon, but that day, you had met my Dad, who fucking loves you by the way, and you had stuck by my side when I got injured, and you just make me laugh and make me think more than anyone I've ever met. Honestly, if you could see inside my brain it's just quidditch all the time, but then you came along and I couldn't even think straight anymore. You, Miss Hermione Granger, are an enigma."

Hermione bit at her lip gently, listening to everything that he had to say. She was blown away that this quidditch obsessed, burly man was stood inches away from her, confessing his feelings to her, whilst she was covered in sooty powder, and hadn't even bothered to cover up the bags under her eyes, or sallowness in her face.

"So, don't you ever, ever, be embarrassed to tell me something. Because.. like it or not, we're going to be married in under a year, and then we're going to make an unbreakable vow, and that means a lot to me." Oliver stood from his stool, and moved even closer to Hermione, "Say something.." he whispered, as if a million people were watching and he wanted this moment to just be theirs.

But for once in her life, she had no idea what to say, so she slipped her hand to his neck and leaned in to kiss him gently, his lips on hers said exactly what she wanted to say but couldn't, and she just knew that he felt exactly the same. They gently untangled themselves from each other and Oliver smiled, "Do you think you could take the day off? I have an idea."

"I don't know.. the bosses are pretty stingy around here.." Hermione grinned, her arms still around his neck, her nose gently nuzzling at his: in any other scenario, and Hermione was sure that there were hundreds up and down the country in that scenario, all of this would feel incredibly awkward, too soon, even. But it felt just right. Like she'd been waiting for it.

"Well well well.. maybe I should go and have a word?" Oliver kissed her lips quickly, thinking through the day's plan in his head.

"Actually, that would be great. I'm not going out like this." She smirked and hopped off her stool and out of his embrace, opening up a door that Oliver hadn't even noticed, "You go tell the boys, and I'll go get ready. I'll meet you back down in the shop."

"You're a minx." He groaned, unlocking the door with his wand and stepping out into the shop, which was reasonably quiet, considering Hogwarts students had gone back a few days ago.

* * *

"Hello Potter!" George grinned, opening up the door of the shop to Harry, who was bundled up and trying to hide his face behind a scarf - if the twins didn't know him so well they wouldn't have ever noticed it was him.

"Alright alright, keep it down." Harry quickly scanned the area, but it appeared he was okay, the shop was empty and there wasn't a reporter in sight.

"What can we do for you, fine man?" Fred mocked, looking Harry up and down, he was suited and booted, which was extremely unusual for aurors, he'd taken on the position to keep himself busy but he found that he just ended up doing things he didn't want to do.

"Been to a hearing." Harry answered the question that Fred hadn't even asked, and hung his jacket up on a peg behind one of the counters. "Is Mione around?"

"Fraid not."

"She left with a certain fiance of hers, about three hours ago now."

"No idea when she'll be back."

"She may never be back."

"She did look pretty happy when she left."

"Merlin, shut up." Harry sighed, reaching to grab his jacket again. He was in a foul mood after the hearing, and it had only gotten worse when he went up to the aurors offices to check his owl-hole.

"Ooooh, Potter's in a bad mood." Fred and George both slid onto stools behind the counter at the same time, "What's up?"

"I've been called for mission." Harry sighed, "In Greenland."

"Where..?"

"Greenland. The coldest known wizarding colony in the world, there's been a sighting of someone we've been hunting for months, so me and a three others are being stationed there until we can find more information, could be a few days, weeks, they said it's a month tops."

"Shit, mate.. that's uh, rough." George tried his best to be sympathetic, he loved Harry like a brother, and knew that he was having a rough time of it after the war with (what the muggles called) PTSD, and then with Ginny leaving to go back to school..

"Maybe it'll help that you're busy." Fred filled in, thinking exactly what his brother was thinking, "Has Ron been called up to?"

"No." Harry mumbled back, he knew that the twins were trying to help but he was grumpy and the thought of being on mission without Ron didn't help matters further. "In fact, no one's seen Ron in days, not even the office. Have you guys?"

"Ron's run off again?"

"For fucks sake."

"Yeah, Hermione thinks it may have something to do with whoever his match is."

"Haha! Maybe he got Malfoy."

"Hilarious, Mione made the same joke." Harry rolled his eyes, the twins were always in a great mood, and that never really helped when he was in a crap one, so he bid his farewells to them and left the shop, intending to go back tomorrow when Hermione would be there, so that he could tell her the bad news and they could both brain storm where Ron could be a little more. It wasn't that he didn't understand that Ron needed his space, Ron always did this, but it was that Harry was leaving and he would be damned if he didn't see his best friend before he went; no matter what Ron was going through, Harry would always be there to help.

* * *

"Here, let me take those." Oliver took the two large brown paper bags from the mahogany counter top, as soon as they'd met up together in the shop again, he'd apparated them to a small wizarding village in Scotland close to where his childhood home had been. They'd spent the day wandering through the narrow cobbled streets, looking through shops with mysterious objects, and Oliver shaking hands with nearly every shop keeper or person they encountered: turns out that it was a small village, and people didn't change, Oliver was their greatest success story, but he greeted them with the same warmth. Hermione had managed to keep her head down, and Oliver had insisted that these were not the sort of people to spread rumours to the papers.

They had finished off their day around half past two, in a five storey book store, full to the rafters of stories and non fiction books, Hermione had happily left Oliver in the basement with the quidditch books, whilst she had explored almost every inch of the beautiful store. She managed to buy two bags full of books, which she promised to Oliver wouldn't even last her two months, whilst he bought one book on the history of quidditch in Scotland, that he promised her would last him at least a year. She had laughed, but then realised that he hadn't been joking.

"How is it already going dark?" She asked as they stepped out of the shop, back into the cobbled street, that now had strong winds whistling through it and was getting increasingly colder; Hermione had wrapped up for the occasion, but Oliver was less suitably dressed.

"Bloody hell, I do not remember it being this cold here." He muttered as they wandered a little bit further down the streets, lit gently by Victorian tree iron street lamps, Hermione had looped her arm through his, as he was insistent that he carried both of her bags.

"You've been in London too long," she grinned, reaching up and kissing his cheek, "You softy."

"Take that back. I'm a Scot." he puffed out his chest, like a proud lion and then involuntarily shivered as a large gust of wind travelled straight through him.

"Come on then, you ruffty-tuffty Scot, should we go back to London?"

"Sounds like a plan, Hermione. Do you want to do the honours?"

Soon, the two of them were back in Oliver's apartment, it had taken a little bit longer as Hermione hadn't got the address exactly right, but Oliver didn't mind the walk back through the park; London was at least five degrees warmer, and the bitter wind of Scotland was no where to be seen.

"Why don't I make us something?" Oliver shouted, walking into the kitchen as Hermione was still unlacing her boots and taking her jacket off in the hallway. "Hey.. merlin, you must be starving, sorry Gryff. Look. Don't be grumpy with me.. tut, tut, tut.. Come here." Oliver whispered to the large tabby cat sloathing along the counter, eventually he had managed to convince the striped ginger tabby into his arms, "Oh! There's someone I think you'd like to meet!" He shouted to Hermione, remembering her earlier anecdote about her cat from her Hogwarts years.

Hermione made her way into the kitchen, trying not to skid on the tiling in her thick fluffy socks, "Oh my gosh.."

She smiled, taking a few tentative steps closer to Oliver, but there didn't seem to be a problem with Gryff getting jealous, he leapt from Oliver's arms as soon as he knew he'd make it, landing neatly in Hermione's embrace. Curling himself around her, he wriggled until she could tickle his belly easily, of which he purred happily, licking at his paws.

"Well aren't you gorgeous hey? Why didn't Oliver introduce us sooner? Merlin, you're so lovely!" Hermione seemed to completely forget Oliver, as she walked with Gryff in her arms from the kitchen and into the living room, sitting on the deep sofa with her legs crossed, and the cat neatly curled up on her legs.

"Hermione?" Oliver called out, walking through the hallway - as soon as he saw her though, he felt his heart swell a little bit, she wasn't listening to a word he said, as he leant against the door frame. "This is Gryff."

"Gryff?"

"Short for Gryffindor. Which is not weird." Oliver quickly covered up, his mates had a habit of mocking him about Gryff, but he didn't care. The cat had been curled up in the fireplace of the flat when he'd gotten the keys, and he wasn't about to throw him out on the street.. He had needed a lot of potions and other trips to the healers, along with plenty of food and different vitamins but soon enough Gryff was fighting fit and chasing after mice again. "I'm never getting my cat back am I?"

"Hey… Why can't be Gryff be our cat? As you said, we are going to get married." Hermione grinned down at the fluff on her lap, she grabbed her wand and quickly accio'ed the bags of books to her feet. "Did you say something about making food?"

"Is this how it's going to be?"

"You love it."

"I have training in the morning, so is some sort of pasta, chickeny thing okay? A few grilled veggies?" Oliver pulled the sweater that was hung over the back of the emerald armchair over his head and pulled his socks off as he waited for Hermione to resurface from her bag of books.

"What? Sorry." She smiled sheepishly. "That sounds perfect. Would you like some help?"

"You and Gryff look very cosy."

"We can move." Hermione offered, but before she got up, Oliver lunged forward into the living room and grabbed his camera from the coffee table. It was one of those old film cameras, definitely muggle, though Oliver may have charmed it somehow.

"Wait there." He leaned against the armchair, setting up his shot, and then snapped, smiling at the two of them. "I know it's very… muggle of me, but I love taking photos."

"I need to send flowers to whoever matched us at the ministry, because, Oliver Wood, they did a damn good job." Hermione unravelled her legs and picked up Gryff, holding him over her shoulder as she followed Oliver into the kitchen, the slate grey surfaces had jars of pasta, rice and other lentils, along with an integrated spice rack in the soft white tiled wall. Placing Gryff on the floor finally, he snaked himself around Oliver's legs and nuzzled at his bare feet as if to tell him that he approved of Hermione.

"Come on, you can chop." He pulled her by the waist towards him, and handed her a knife to chop up the peppers, chillis and fresh spinach leaves.

"So domineering, what a fine example of masculinity."

They continued to laugh as they cooked alongside each other, Oliver naturally moving from place to place in the kitchen and around Hermione, as if she'd always been there. Once Oliver threw the noddles into wok, the steam and heat had become so overwhelming in the kitchen, that Hermione pulled her long sleeve striped black and white top off, leaving her in a mustard spaghetti strap tank top, the scars that she had forgotten to glamour, very clear all over her skin. Oliver tried not to flinch, or stare, but Hermione hadn't noticed, she was turning the volume up on the stereo and wiggling her hips to the Wizarding Wireless Network. It was only when Oliver served the two bowls of pad thai along with a jug of lemon water, that he had summoned up the courage to ask.

"Can I ask a personal question?" Oliver picked up his chop sticks, twisting the noodles around in the bowl, "You can say no."

"Hm, it depends what about.." She picked up some noodles with her chopsticks and fed them into her mouth gracefully, thanking her mum for teaching her how to eat politely at a young age.

"Your scars."

Hermione's eyes flickered slightly before she closed them tight shut, placing her chop sticks down and squeezing her hands together tightly. "Which one?"

"No we don't have to talk about it, it's too hard for you."

"Oliver, which one?" She managed to open her eyes successfully, her brown eyes ablaze with memories and fear, but he deserved to know, he should know.

"On your arm. I can't read it, but.. it looks like a word? Hermione.." Oliver suddenly realised, "Hermione do you have _mud blood_ written into your arm?"

Hermione bit her lip tightly, nodding, she couldn't keep his gaze, it hurt too much to let him see her like this. Only a few had actually seen her scars, and very few of them knew where they had come from, or how much pain they had caused her.

"Who did that to you?"

"Bellatrix Lestrange." Hermione choked out, tears welling up in her eyes as she fought hard not to remember exactly what happened. "I'm so sorry, I just, I don't think I can do this." She pushed the chair back from the table, and rushed from the kitchen, with Oliver close behind her. He slipped his arms around her from behind and pulled her towards him.

"I've got you."

"I'm sorry," she whispered, she'd moved herself so that she had her head buried in his chest, and he had his arms around her back, with one hand on the back of her head to hold her tight.

"You have nothing to be sorry for. Those people, they have everything to be sorry for."

"Merlin, you must think I'm a mess." She tried to compose herself but it was to little avail.

"I think nothing of the sort. Do you want to stay here tonight? I'll sleep on the sofa."

"Don't be daft." She kissed his shoulder, "Why don't we get Gryff and go curl up in bed?"

"Are you sure?"

"It's so late now, it would be silly for me to go back to the flat." And then she felt Gryff walking over their feet, hers in thick fluffy socks and his bare, the pads of his tiny feet trying to balance on their feet alone. "Hey you."

Oliver chuckled and bent down to scoop Gryff up, "We've got to look after our girl, Gryff."

"Did I mention how great you are?"

"Might've mentioned it." Oliver smirked, taking her hand and leading her upstairs to his bedroom, a pile of training gear outside the door, "Would you like the full tour?"

"Of upstairs? I feel honoured, though I imagine you clean up a little more when girls have come here in the past."

"Don't worry, no one's ever slept in my bed."

"You're joking?" Hermione almost laughed, "I thought you were a player. Everyone told me that you're a bit of a player."

"Well," Oliver awkwardly looked from the floor to the ceiling, trying to think how he should answer that, "I only said that no one's ever slept in my bed."


	6. Chapter 6

_**People Can Surprise You**_

Ron hadn't been seen for over ten days now, which was starting to cause more than emotional problems for his family and friends, it was now affecting his position at the auror office. Harry couldn't cover for him much longer, and he was risking his job by lying to Kingsley, but the golden boy title had more power than it was worth at the Ministry. Hermione and Harry had visited nearly every location that he could possibly have been hiding out at, Hermione was sending daily owls, messages via patronus.. Nothing was reaching Ron, or willing him to come back. The emotional toll of him being MIA was starting to get to the both of them, along with Mrs Weasley who had been stressfully cooking all day long every day, just to provide for her family when she felt she had badly mothered Ron.

Though it was arguable that the missing Weasley was impacting Hermione the most, it was bringing back painful memories of when they were on the run, and when Ron decided to leave her then. Oliver had been doing his best to try and understand, to try and comfort her but it had been with little success. Alternating nights that week Hermione had stayed over at Oliver's, and when he had had to go away for a match she had gone over to his apartment and fed Gryff, kept him company for a few hours. The twins, although they liked Wood, were growing increasingly suspicious that things were moving too quickly between Oliver and Hermione.. yet Hermione knew they were just deflecting onto her, as George hadn't patched things up with Angelina and Fred hadn't even contacted Eliza.

* * *

He threw the cold water from the basin at his face, his eyes glossed over slightly and his shoulders slumped. This is how Ron had been for the last week, holed up in a tiny cottage in the middle of the West country. Far from anybody, muggle or wizard, he had rented it off the landlady of the pub, but even that pub was six miles up the road. She'd been to check on him once, brought a loaf of rye bread, though he'd hastily gotten rid of her and gone back to laying in bed, trying to think about what he was gong to do.

Today was different though. Yes, his eyes were glossy and a little bit raw, but his shoulders weren't as slumped as before, he'd gotten dressed and showered, and was now looking into the slightly smoked mirror debating whether he should shave. If Hermione were here she'd be insistent on it, but he kind of liked the scruff around his face and neck. Drying his face on the towel, he took a few deep breaths and willed himself to stand up slightly taller, eat some real food and take himself to the appointment he had made, with Dr Daniel Turbs - he wasn't gay, that's all he needed to tell the guy.

* * *

London hadn't changed, yet it seemed colder, darker, more intrusive of his thoughts. Ron had pulled his thick black over coat up around his face, along with a muggle baseball cap; he couldn't risk anybody noticing him, his face plastering the Daily Prophet when he hadn't replied to any of his friends or families messages. He knew they were worried but he needed this time to think, really _think._ Once he had made it to St. Mungos he slipped in the back entrance that Harry and he had frequently used, and followed the long stone corridors until he had descended several stair cases and appeared to be in the basement of the hospital, he read the sign above the double doors.

 _Psychology Department: for Dr Daniel Turbs, Mr Jessie Howells, Dr Amelia Wright and Mr Roger Davies_

Here goes nothing, Ron thought, as he pulled one of the mahogany doors open and walked into the psychology department, where he knew, after some research, Daniel Turbs worked. He had managed to get an appointment with him, after he told the receptionist that he was Ronald Weasley, but he had insisted that it must be completely confidential and had booked the appointment with a pseudonym. After speaking to the receptionist behind the desk, he was taken to Dr Turbs' office, who was in fact, not actually there at the moment. She informed him that he was doing ward duties and had been held up, but would be there soon.

This didn't bother Ron, it meant that he could pull himself together before actually meeting the man. But if his office was anything to go off, he wasn't completely sure how they had been matched at all, man or no man. There was a long grey felt couch in the centre of the room, with a reclining brown leather chair facing it, both pieces of furniture were atop a soft off-white rug, with a pattern of yellow and teal stars all over it. The low metal cabinet that was flush against one wall had over hanging fern plants and photographs of his.. family? Above this there were two large framed posters, written in calligraphy they read 'inhale' and 'exhale' - _very psychology,_ Ron thought. And then finally, in an alcove in the corner of the room was a large wooden desk neatly tucked into the space, with a laptop ( _muggle born?_ ) open, displaying the time, surrounded by pots of pens, quick ink quills, random pieces of decoration, and a healthy collection of coffee mugs, all in different colours, some sporting bizarre themes and jokes.

After poking around the office for five or so minutes, Ron decided to take a seat on the couch, resting his folded leg on top of the other, his dark grey jeans pulling up a little at the ankle. If anyone had seen him now, they would have arguably said that he had dressed to impress, but Ron had told himself that he should look presentable in case the Prophet had seen him - or at least, that was what he had told himself.

And then quite quickly, the door clicked open and there he was, stood in the doorway, navy chinos rolled up slightly at the ankle, tan brogues on his feet, a crisp white shirt with a dark green sweater over the top, and as Ron finally conjured up the ability to look at his face, he saw someone much _much_ younger than he had anticipated. This guy couldn't be much more than twenty five, with his swept back brown hair, high cheek bones and a smattering of freckles that just screamed that he spent a lot of time outdoors. They both stood, metres away from each other, looking each other up and down as they realised who each other were.

"You're not.. Micheal Ross?"

Neither of them could move, they were stood, inspecting one another, realising what was happening, but the only thing Ron couldn't explain was the tension he felt between the two of them, he hadn't expected this - he'd expected to see this guy and feel nothing, because he isn't gay. He doesn't like men. That's not him. Yet there was this charge between them that he couldn't shake, and he knew that the doctor standing in front of him felt it too, his eyes were wide and his pupils dilated, slightly chewing at his lip as he waited for Ron to respond.

"You're _Doctor_ Daniel Turbs?" Ron spluttered out eventually, his mouth curling up into half a smile, disbelief evident on his face.

"Yes." He shoved his hands into his pockets, somewhat uncomfortably. This isn't how he thought this would've happened. When he received the letter, read the name in cursive, he presumed there had been some sort of mistake, presumed that he'd be notified shortly that he'd gotten the wrong letter and that he would be assigned his match very soon.

"I'm not gay." Ron managed, but neither of them could believe that. Not even Ron anymore.

"Take a seat." He gestured towards the couch that Ron had stood from as soon as the door had been opened, as he himself walked over to his chair, taking a seat in front of him, assuring that the chair was upright. This wasn't a conversation he wanted to appear relaxed about, the last thing he felt right now was relaxed.

"Look, I'm sorry man, but I think there must have been some sort of mistake at the Ministry. I'm sure it's happened to lots of people." Ron was lying. He didn't think for a second that there had been some sort of mistake, the feeling between himself and the man sat in front of him was like nothing he had ever felt before. But he didn't take a minute to realise who he was lying to: a psychologist.

"See how you're slightly swaying from side to side? You've got your hands clasped together tightly in front of your crotch, in fact your hands are so tightly clasped together that you are digging your nails into your skin so hard that you'll make them bleed. You're scared. And you're lying to me. Now, please, take a seat, Ron." Dan spoke calmly and matter of factly, he had no time for these games, and knew that once they had gotten to the bottom of this he'd be able to have a rational conversation with him, but until that point, it was a waste of his time.

This time Ron did sit down, but he didn't assume the relaxed position he had been in only ten minutes earlier, no, this time he was fiddling with the cuffs of his shirt, his legs separated, leaning on his knees.

"I'm not." Ron muttered, something inside of him was making him frustrated, but he couldn't quite put a pin on what in fact, it was.

"Look at your hands," Dan stepped up from his chair and crossed over the room to his desk, where he pulled open a draw that had a small tin inside of it. He took the tin over to the couch, and knelt on the floor by Ron's legs. The ginger haired man sat before him had done exactly what the doctor had warned him of, he had anxiously dug his own nails into his skin. "Give them to me." He didn't ask, he commanded, as he knew that Ron would fidget and hesitate otherwise, he understood.. Ron had received his letter and spiralled into denial, but it was now Dan's job to convince him that it was okay, he could be who he truly is, no one would judge him or discriminate against him.

Then gently, as Dan took Ron's hands into his as he cleaned them and bandaged them up from the small tin of first aid items, they both saw the bands of Ravenclaw blue and bright shining gold ink wrapping around their wrists, only two thin lines but the colours were bold, extravagant and deadly obvious.

"What..?" Ron mumbled quietly, all his rage and frustration seemed to have left him the moment that Dan had taken his hands and started to clean them. They were both neatly bandaged now, and Dan was placing the scissors and left over bandage back into the tin.

"Once you and your true match touch skin for the first time after they receive their letter, their tattoos form. Whether you like it or not, I'm yours Ron."

* * *

"So, have you met your match yet?" Oliver asked, settling himself into the booth in the muggle London restaurant that was closest to the hospital. He'd gotten in touch with his ex-psychologist turn friend, Dan Turbs, for a drink and dinner. When Dan was in his final year of his psychology degree he had done an internship as a sports psychologist for the team that Oliver played for before he went full time with the GB squad, and ever since then Oliver and Dan had been good friends, meeting up every now and then for dinner or coffee.

"Well.. yeah. But it's a little trickier than you and yours." Dan sighed, it had been a few days since Ron had been waiting for him in his office, and since then it wasn't dramatic to say that his life had turned upside down and inside out. He was tired, emotionally confused, and extremely frustrated.

"Is he not what you thought he'd be?"

"God, you can say that again." Dan twisted his hands together, grateful for the interruption from the waitress who took their drinks order: Dan, a very strong mojito, Oliver, a beer.

"You okay mate?" Oliver cocked his head slightly, concerned for the man sat opposite him, there weren't many people that Oliver was close to like he was with Dan, and they'd both helped each other through some shit, so Oliver generally put aside his hard persona and let Dan chat about his emotions or feelings, or whatever.

"I dunno, this guy. My match. He keeps categorically telling me he's not gay.. yet.." Dan pulled his sleeve up and slipped his watch off, revealing the blue and gold bands etched into his skin.

"Damn." Oliver commented, "So this guy? He had no idea?"

"That's what he keeps telling me, and I understand his fear, I was in the same position."

Oliver hmm'd in response, he remembered when Dan came out, it was about a year after they'd first met at work, and Dan had received some serious backlash against the whole thing, especially from the team, but Oliver had managed to change the opinions of nearly every team member bar one. That one person, however, turned out to be a closeted-gay, who in a strange turn of events became Dan's sort of on and off again boyfriend.

"But I don't want another relationship like I had with Zack, you know?"

"Merlin, I still want to smash his fucking face in for what he did to you." Oliver growled a little, remembering when Dan had turned up at his apartment one night with a bag over his shoulder and a bleeding, bruised face.

 _"_ _I'm really sorry, I didn't know where else to go." Dan mumbled, stood in front of Oliver who was still in his training gear._

 _"_ _It's fine, it's fine. Come in, come in," Oliver rushed, getting Dan inside quickly and out of the cold, his coat and trousers were drenched, but it was his face that worried Oliver the most, a black eye was starting to form, his lip was split, and his cheek was bloody and bruised. "What happened?!"_

 _Dan sighed, shivering a little as he dropped his bag on the hallway floor and took his coat off, he followed Oliver into the lounge where he soon sat by the fire, trying to warm himself through, but nothing at that point in time could have warmed him up. He'd decided to break up with Zack, no longer able to deal with his rage or refusal to go public about their relationship. Zack hadn't taken the news well, at all._

 _"_ _I broke up with Zack." Dan mumbled again, his eyes glossing over as he pulled his legs closer to his chest, trying to become so small that he'd just disappear entirely._

 _"_ _I'm going to fucking murder him. He did this to you?!" Oliver growled, but quickly curtailed his anger as he realised that the last thing Dan needed right now was someone else being angry. "Let's get you cleaned up, do you want a drink?"_

 _"_ _Have you got any whiskey?"_

 _Oliver smiled, Dan and him had a little in joke - whenever something went tits up for them, they always found a whiskey somewhere, and with Oliver being Scottish, he was always able to find whiskey. "Upstairs, third grey door, that's the bathroom. There's a first aid kit in the cupboard, I'd help but I think you're far more qualified as a doctor."_

 _"_ _You're right. I wouldn't want you anywhere near my face." Dan half smiled, untangling his legs and getting up from the floor. In the following few months Oliver managed to get Zack cut from the team, let Dan stay at his apartment until he sorted his life out again, and became one of his best friends in the process._

"This guy though, I don't think he's Zack. I think he's just scared. He's in the spotlight.. And you know what the world's like. I'd never let it blow up in his face, but he's really fucking famous Ollie." Dan slid his head onto the table and groaned, "Why couldn't I just have a nice chino wearing guy who wants kids and dogs?!"

"Because you'd get bored." Oliver smiled, pushing the ice cold mojito glass against Dan's face to shock him out of his slump. "Look, if you promise not to tell anyone, I'll tell you who my match is.. I can certainly empathise with the fame problem."

Dan perked up a little, he'd been eager to find out who Oliver's match was ever since he'd seen the love struck puppy look on his friend's face. "Cross my heart. Promise. I will tell no one."

Oliver rolled his eyes, taking a swig of his beer. "Hermione Granger."

"Oh fuck." Dan laughed, taking a big drink of his mojito, "You've got to be kidding."

"What.." Oliver narrowed his eyes slightly, "No." He'd quickly caught on, much faster than he normally would, "He isn't." He knew that it couldn't have been Harry, and obviously Hermione only had one other best friend..

"I didn't say _anything."_ Dan ran his fingers through his hair, "So yeah.. he turned up in my office a couple of days ago, and we ended up chatting for hours, then.." Dan hung his head, humiliation creeping up on him, "Oh god, and then we got absolutely shit faced and I took him home with me."

"WHAT?!"

"Bloody hell, keep your voice down!"

"You shagged him!?" Oliver spluttered, completely dumbfounded.

"We may have.. done.. that. Yes."

"And he's still denying he's gay?"

"We both woke up the next morning, hungover, and in complete regret. He got dressed and apparated, before I'd even managed to say anything to him."

"You realise he's been missing for nearly two weeks now?"

"Well I guess I found him." Dan groaned, "It's so bad. I just wanted to marry someone normal."

"Ro-"

"Don't say it."

Oliver rolled his eyes, "He's a pretty normal guy, I promise. Hermione vouches for him, a lot more than I thought she would. But.. she's been worried out of her mind for him, I've got to tell her he's safe."

"I don't know that he is. I have no idea where he's gone."

"Won't the hospital have his records from when he turned up at your office?"

"Shit Wood, you're right." Dan finished his drink quickly and stood up from the booth, "When did you get clever?" He joked, throwing some money down on to the table.

"It's Hermione." Oliver laughed, finishing his beer and following Dan out of the restaurant.

* * *

 **Knock… knock…. knock… knock, knock, knock.**

"Open up!" Dan shouted at the wooden door of the cottage that he knew for a fact Ron was staying in, "I KNOW YOU'RE IN THERE! WE HAVE TO TALK!" Dan took a step back from the door, hearing footsteps coming running towards it, he had decided to leave Oliver in London, deciding that it was probably best to leave this as uncomfortable as possible.

Ron opened the door, his mouth slightly slurring, and a bottle of fire whiskey in one hand, "Dan, hey." He laughed to himself, opening the door up wider. "Come in."

"You're drunk." Dan sighed, taking a step over the threshold, but as he did, Ron grabbed him by the waist and pushed him against the wall, dropping the bottle of fire whiskey on the floor. He pushed his body up close to Dan's, panting heavily. "What are you doing..?" Dan whispered, trying to force himself to do something, to get Ron off of him somehow, but for some reason he couldn't get his brain to move his arms. He was trapped in Ron's hold.

"What do you think I'm doing?" Ron pushed his lips against Dan's hard and fast, kissing him as if his life depended on it, but to Ron's drunken surprise Dan kissed him back, fighting against his open mouth, bringing his hands up to Ron's neck, the slightly taller ginger guy pressed the full weight of himself against Dan's hips, desperately trying to get as close as he could before Dan pulled back.

"Wait, stop. Ron, stop it. We can't. You're drunk. I'm not doing this when you're drunk." Dan sighed, pushing Ron off him, who suddenly went slightly floppy and weak, so using his best instincts he grabbed Ron's arm and pulled it over his shoulders. He was slightly bigger than Dan, but years of running and climbing had made him strong, so he managed to get them into the small kitchen somehow, where he shifted Ron's weight into one of the six chairs around the wooden dining table. "I'm going to get you a sobering potion and we are going to talk."

Fifteen minutes later Ron had drunk his sobering potion and eaten a bowl of cereal, and was starting to feel humiliated, but slightly human again. The effects of half a bottle of fire whiskey had quickly worn off, though that meant that he had to face Dan and realise what he had done, the mistakes he had made in the last few days, he had to confront the tattoo and what it meant, and that they needed to be married within the year.

"We've got to talk Ron.." Dan mumbled, sat opposite him with a large mug of tea. He had his hands wrapped around it, as if it could protect him from anything that Ron was going to say. "About all of this. It's not going away, and I'm not letting myself get hurt again." He was so tempted to not say again, but Ron had to know what he was dealing with, and some honesty from the beginning was the only way that this was going to work.

"I'm sorry I ran before we got to speak the other morning."

"We shouldn't have done.." Dan awkwardly chewed at his lip, trying to think how to say it.

"We shouldn't have shagged?" Ron quipped, his brutal english humour coming out.

Dan blushed a little, slowly losing all of the bravado he had in his office and when he marched up to the door of the cottage. "Shagged. Yes. Shagged." He tested the word, seeing how it felt to say it in front of the man he was supposedly spending the rest of his life with. "We shouldn't have done that. We were drunk, it was extremely unprofessional of me, I should have kept my wits about me. But.. not every day you meet the man you're going to marry."

"Bloody hell." Ron muttered, "Unprofessional?"

"I can't tell what you're thinking." Dan looked up from his tea for the first time in a while, trying not to meet Ron's eyes as he knew it would only make him feel worse.

"I bet that's a novelty for you."

"Are you gay, Ron?"

"No." He blurted out straight away, then skimmed his finger tips over the indents in his hand, "Maybe. There's something between us. I'm not gay. It's just you. You've completely.."

"Turned your world upside down? That's what you've done to me." Dan reached out and took Ron's hand, opening it up so he could see the scars and see how they were healing; very gently he skimmed his finger tip along the four of them, Ron had done well at looking after them, which surprised Dan.

Ron half smiled, the sensation running through his hand and arm was incredible right now, he never wanted Dan to let go. "You've turned me gay.. I think I win, Dan."

A few hours later and, not hungover this time, Dan woke up to find Ron wrapped around his body, from what he could see they were both naked, which made Dan remember what had happened since he forced his future husband to sober up. Ron had finally admitted to Dan, that although he may not be gay, he at least could give it a go for Dan, and after that, Ron had asked him if they wanted to pick up where they started when Dan first stepped over the threshold of the cottage.

And now.. Dan was gently drawing patterns over Ron's pale and slightly freckled skin, after a long and gentle shag.. _nope, that's not the right word, not at all, but what else was it?_ Thoughts and mixed emotions were running around inside of the doctor's head faster than a stubborn snitch, and for all of his psychological training and education, he couldn't sort them out, couldn't explain them.

"Hmm.. Uh.." Ron mumbled, yawning, and slowly opening his eyes, Dan felt his eyelashes brush against his bare back, he knew his spine would be awkwardly protruding from his back as it always had done, he knew that the birthmark on his right shoulder blade would be staring Ron right in the face, and he felt this burning desire to cover up, to hide himself from the man next to him, the man that was apparently the only person in the world that was his soul mate. "What time is it?" Ron whispered, instead of commenting on the things that Dan found himself unable to push aside in his thoughts.

"Just a little after nine.." Dan mumbled back, humiliation at Ron being able to see him, the shame of how he had leapt at the chance to sleep with Ron again, the memory of him turning up at the door and being so forth coming.

"You're quiet.." Ron kissed Dan's shoulder, the one with the birth mark, ever so gently. "From what I know so far, this isn't like you."

Dan softened a little, the feel of Ron's lips against his skin confirming to him that even if Ron wasn't completely okay with who he was, he was at least okay with Dan, and that meant more than Ron would ever realise. "There's a lot going on in my head."

"Come here, look at me."

Dan wriggled a little, blinked his eyes quickly and turned himself over, facing Ron, whose stubble was at that perfect length, his 'just-fucked' hair was disheveled and seemed brighter than before, and his eyes. _Oh fuck, those eyes are going to be the ruin of me._

"I know it's only been a few days. But something feels right.. does it feel right to you?"

"Yeah." Dan smiled shyly, propping his head up on his arm that was resting against the pillow, "I guess it does."

"Now, I'm not good at this shit. So forgive me, but what's going on in your head?" Ron slipped his hand through Dan's messy dark hair, kissing his forehead as he dragged the hair away; he didn't know what came over him when he was around Dan, but he constantly wanted to kiss him, to be close to him, to make him feel good.

Dan instinctively moved closer, resting his head on Ron's bare chest, letting the slightly larger man wrap his arms around him and hold him close. He returned to drawing patterns all over his pale skin, as he had done just a few minutes before when Ron had still been asleep. "All of this. How are we so close, and so.. intimate? We've known each other three or four days at best, and of that time we've either been drunk or I've been convincing you that you're gay. So how, how are we now lying in your bed post sex? I just don't understand."

Ron thought for a little while, mulling the questions and ideas over in his head, "I don't understand either."

"Have we been drugged?"

"You're a doctor, and I work for the ministry. We'd know if we'd been drugged, Dan."

"Maybe it's all in their plan." Dan giggled, and then Ron felt it, a slight twinge in his tattoo, a warm feeling spreading through him like wildfire. He laughed along with him, a certainty in himself that everything was going to be okay, this could work out. At least, between the two of them it could work out.


	7. Chapter 7

_**A Temporary Farewell**_

"Please pass me the milk." Hermione moaned at Oliver for the third time, he was holding it above her head, grinning at her, she'd stayed over at his again the night before, the level of comfortableness between the two of them increasing day by day. So much so that Oliver was stood topless, plaid pyjama bottoms lazily hanging from his hips, holding a bottle of milk too high for Hermione to reach. He'd been out with Dan the night before, and had dropped by Hermione's when the evening had finished much earlier than he had expected.

"Give me a kiss and I'll give you the milk." Oliver winked, licking his lips, in what he thought was a seductive manner, but actually just made Hermione cringe.

"Merlin knows how the girls used to fall over you, that's just put me off breakfast entirely." She humphed triumphantly, picking up Gryff from the counter and marching herself out of the kitchen and up the stairs, "Me and Gryff are going back to bed!"

Oliver quickly put the milk back in the fridge and chased after her, just reaching them as she was placing Gryff on the landing, he managed to grab her by the waist and pulled her up and onto his shoulder. "Oh no Granger, you can't tempt me like that."

She giggled and screamed to get put down, but she knew it would be to no avail, he was competitive to the core and would have to win this one, so eventually she stopped kicking at his back and let him carry her into his bedroom and toss her onto the bed (as gently as he possibly could for a 6'4 quidditch player).

"I'll tell your Dad you're mean to me." She grinned, kneeling up on top of all of the blankets and quilts. Gryff had sloathed back into the room and was choosing his next spot to curl up in.

"He won't believe you."

"We're going for lunch next week, I'm sure he'd love to hear all about it." Hermione laughed, her eyes twinkling with defiance against her fiancee.

"You're not!" Oliver groaned, sinking back into the bed, on his side. They'd quickly assumed sides of the bed the first night that Hermione had slept over.

"Oh but we are, he's a much better date than you are."

"How so?"

"Can talk about other things besides quidditch, for a start. And he's really rather intellectual.." She laughed even louder as Oliver grabbed her by the waist and pounced on her, kissing from her ear to her shoulder very slowly and deliberately.

"Yes, but he doesn't do this does he?"

"I would hope not." She mumbled, arching her back ever so slightly as he finally kissed her for the last time at the end of her slightly boney shoulder.

"Do you have to go to your meeting today? It's a Sunday.." He whined like a small child, eager to spend more time in bed with her, laughing and smiling and being care free before their weekend was over and their hectic schedules took over once more. Hermione, rightly so, came back from a day at work with more stress than he'd ever seen in one human being, and a panicked look on her face, the symptoms of PTSD staring back at him every time she stepped over the threshold of his apartment.

"You know I have to," she kissed his lips gently, then snuggled up against his shoulder, pulling the quilts over them. "Anyway, tell me about your dinner, or drinks. We got distracted last night."

"Ah.. The ever so illustrious Dan Turbs." Oliver smiled, so comfy in his little love bubble with Hermione that he completely lost his train of thought, and perhaps, didn't think about what he said next. "We just got chatting about who his match is, I think he's having a really hard time. Dan's having to coax this guy out of the closet, but he says it's worth it."

"Oooh, who's his match?" Hermione had heard all about Dan and was eager to meet him, he sounded like someone she needed to have in her corner when Oliver was being annoying. Whilst she had met Oliver's Dad, she hadn't met any friends or heard about many other people in his life, it did genuinely seem to revolve around quidditch..

"I can't say. Dan asked me not to." Oliver smirked.

"Fine." Hermione humphed.

"I could tell you stuff about him and you could guess?"

"So I know him?"

Oliver shrugged. "Not my place to say."

"Right."

"Wa-" Oliver began to ask but Hermione quickly cut him off, sitting bolt upright and pushing her hair off of her face and over one shoulder, a look of shock and complete surprise was evident all over.

"It isn't."

"Who do you think it is..?"

"Ron.." she whispered, covering her mouth as soon as she said it, similar to a small child saying a word that they knew was completely and utterly forbidden, but then doing it anyway.

Oliver bit his lip in response, his eyes as wide as saucers, he gave everything away.

"No." Hermione couldn't pull her hand from her mouth, she quickly moved herself away from Oliver, pulling her legs up to her chest and assuming the position she always did when she didn't know how else to cope with the thoughts and emotions rushing through her head. It was her number one coping mechanism, just steps away from panic or anxiety taking over her brain completely. "Oh god, is he okay?" She whispered, moving back again when Oliver tried to pull her closer to him.

"Dan says he's okay. He's coping."

"And this Dan? He'll take care of him?" Hermione was getting quieter and quieter, she couldn't quite believe that Ron was out there on his own having to deal with all of this being thrown at him. All that she wanted to do, all that she ever needed to do was look after the people around her, to make sure that they were happy and that they were safe. The uncertainty was all too much.

"I'm more concerned that Ron won't take care of Dan.."

"What?" Her brow furrowed slightly, causing her forehead to crinkle in response.

"I shouldn't be telling you this." Oliver sighed and ran his fingers through his sleepy hair, "He was in an abusive relationship, when he first came out. That's sort of how we're so close.. He lived here for a while when he managed to break it off with the guy he was seeing."

"Oh my gosh.." Hermione's eyes had welled up with tears, and instead of fighting it, instead of running from Oliver she wrapped her arms around his neck and tucked herself into him, the fit of their two bodies seemed almost effortless. And they stayed like that, Hermione overcome with the news of her best friend, and of how he must be coping, feeling.. And this other newfound emotion, this sense of being able to rely on someone, something that she hadn't felt in an incredibly long time. Harry, Ron, the twins.. she had never wanted to put pressure onto them, never wanted to rely on them because they had their own things to deal with, but this felt different with Oliver. It felt mutual.

* * *

"What do I do if they don't like me?" Oliver stood in the long mirror in Hermione's bedroom, holding up two different coloured shirts to himself, Hermione was sat at her dressing table, glamouring her scars as to not scare or worry Mr and Mrs Weasley.

"You're a troll. You know that?" Hermione laughed, finishing up with the mud blood etched into her arm; it had just become naturally habitual that Oliver had seen her scars, if they didn't spend so much time in each other's company then perhaps it would have happened differently. She stood up from her dresser and walked over to him, kissing his bare shoulder gently. "Stop worrying. They will love you."

"How do you know that?"

"Just as you knew that your Dad was going to love me." She winked, taking the white shirt away from him, "The navy is better."

As he slipped the shirt onto his back and arms, Hermione resisted all urges to kiss him, his strong physique and tanned skin from being outdoors all the time made her heart melt a little - _this gorgeous man is all mine, forever!_

"What are you grinning like a madman at?"

"You." She winked, skipping across her room to the knitted dress she'd picked out for the Weasley sunday lunch they were about to attend together, it was now Oliver's turn to watch in complete adoration, _you're marrying that girl, you lucky bastard._

As she sat on her bed to slide her stockings on, she realised that she'd never felt this comfortable in anyone else's company, here they were, getting dressed together, moving effortlessly around each other like they were now part of the furniture. Eventually, she slipped the thick emerald knit over her head and checked herself out in the mirror, it clung to her body closely, and though she was extremely thin, it bulked her out a little. Mrs Weasley might not comment on her weight numerous times today.

"Stunning." Oliver commented, leaning down to kiss her lips gently, "Are you ready?"

"Let me just tie my hair up, why don't you go see if the boys are ready?"

* * *

"Herms, do you want to go for a walk?" Harry stood up from the sofa he had been settled on in the Burrow's topsy turvy living room, a few of the Weasley's were involved in a lively game of wizards chess, but the sight of it made him miss Ron. Arthur, Oliver, Bill and Charlie were all washing up in the kitchen, reminiscing about their days in the Gryffindor quidditch team - Oliver fitted right in, which filled Hermione with a sense of joy. Molly had loved that he had an appetite just like her boys, and that he had gone round for a third helping of her rhubarb and pumpkin pie, even though no one else seemed to enjoy the combination.

"That sounds lovely." She smiled at him sadly, she'd lay a galleon on him feeling the same pain for Ron as soon as the wizards chess set came out. This walk was probably more of a distraction for him than anyone else, but she needed to say goodbye to him properly as well, it was hard to not have him around, even harder to not have either of her best friends with her. The twins and Oliver had promised to Harry that they would take care of her, as best they could, but sometimes it felt like only Ron and Harry knew what was going on in her head. Knew the pain of the nightmares, or the sleepless days.

Once they were suitably booted and rugged up, Hermione kissed Oliver quickly and told him she'd not be long, so they trudged out into the hard, crispy snow up onto the moors. They didn't talk for what seemed like hours, until both of them looked up from their feet and noticed that they'd come to the top of the moor, North of them you could quite clearly make out the upside down house that the Burrow was, topped with snow and lights flicking on and off at the windows. The two of them rarely walked alone anymore, scared witless that something could happen, or with Ministry protection around them.

"You'll be safe, won't you?" Hermione whispered, tucking her hands into her coat pockets.

"Of course I will be." Harry assured her, squeezing her shoulder gently. "I promised Ginny, and I'll promise you the same thing. I will be back."

"Don't make promises you can't keep."

"It's Greenland. I'll be fine."

"Hmph."

"The Ministry would not let me go anywhere that could kill off their golden boy, you and Ron aren't quite the same package deal." He teased her gently, trying to coax a smile or a laugh out of her but it was met with a steely glare.

"Ron's safe, Harry."

"What?" Harry's brow furrowed, "How do you know?"

"I just do." She sighed, kicking at the snow with her boots, "I can't tell you. But, I think you should owl him and tell him you're going. He'd want to know."

"You _just do?_ What on earth does that mean?"

"Don't do this."

"Don't do what? Hermione you're not being very clear!"

She couldn't help it, she shouted back at him. "Don't be angry with me! I wish I could tell you more, but I can't! All I can say is, that I think you should speak to Ron. Owl him one last time before you go. If you play martyr instead that is your decision Harry Potter, but I have warned you."

And with that they walked back to the Burrow in silence, she wished she could tell him about Ron and about his new found happiness with Dan, but she knew that this news would have to come from him, for one, he may not even believe her, and for two, this was not her news to tell.

* * *

By the time they had returned back to the flat, it was late in the evening and they were full to the rafters of all of the delights that Mrs Weasley had laid out for them: two types of roast, yorkshire puddings, potatoes, vegetables of all varieties, gravy, pies for pudding, a crumble.. Finished later on with leftovers and some home made pork pie. Oliver had international training from Tuesday through to Thursday, so he decided to stay the night at Hermione's, which is how the twins and the two of them ended up in the lounge of their flat, with a bottle of fire whiskey between them.

Nearly to the end of the bottle, Hermione was lazily slumped against Oliver, her earlier fight with Harry completely gone from her mind, hiccuping and giggling at herself, whilst Oliver was falling asleep and waking himself up every time that she hiccuped. The twins though, seemed to have hit that stage in their drunken state that they were incredibly honest. Everything that Hermione asked of them they'd reply with a completely truthful answer. But it was Oliver that asked the most telling question of the evening, to Fred.

"Have you gotten the balls to ask Eliza out yet?"

"We're going tomorrow." Fred blurted out, grabbing the bottle of fire whiskey off his brother and taking a slurp. "I'm picking her up at midday, and then she's got a whole afternoon planned for us."

"You've contacted her?!" Hermione giggled unintentionally, "I can't", (hic!) "Believe it!"

"Well you better believe it Hermyyy, because I am going on a **date!"** Much to Hermione, Oliver and George's disapproval he shouted the last part, jumping to his feet and throwing his long arms in the air in triumph, "A date! With Eliza McGonogall!"


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: Hiya, hope you're enjoying it so far! Don't be shy to review or message me any changes/what you like about the fic. Thank you for** **reading! x**

 _ **Is it too soon?**_

"FRED! GEORGE!" Hermione screamed from her bedroom, slipping a hoodie over her head and running from her bedroom across the flat to the front door, rarely did someone come to visit her in the flat, so she knew that this very early guest had to be for one of the twins. Neither of which could be seen anywhere. She pulled the front door open quickly, to try and stop the relentless banging that was coming from the other side. In her hungover, and extremely exhausted state, Hermione did not expect to see Angelina standing in the doorway.

"I'm so sorry. I thought I'd get George. I didn't mean to wake you Hermione." Angelina gushed, extremely apologetic as soon as she saw the state of Hermione.

"Oh .. um, you didn't. Come on in."

Angelina raised a perfectly shaped eyebrow in response, Hermione's hair was sticking out at all angles, her mascara slightly smudged from when she hadn't taken it off in the early hours of the morning, and the hoodie that she'd thrown on happened to be slightly splattered with cooking stains, from one of Oliver's more daring experiments. She just hadn't managed to get it into the wash yet.

"Is George in, by any chance?"

"He should be." Hermione walked into the kitchen, picking up her watch that she'd left on the side: 5.45 am. "Not to be rude.. um, but why are you here quite so early?"

"I've just flown in from New York, sorry. It must be the, oh what do you call it, um, jet-lag!"

"New York?" She grabbed two mugs from the cabinet above her head, and watched carefully as Angelina sat on one of the stools by the counter like she'd done a hundred times before, this natural ease in the flat was bizarre for Hermione, but especially so at this time in the morning. "And you flew there?"

"Technically, I only flew home. I managed to use a couple of port keys to get there."

"Sugar?" Hermione was making coffee. No one ever needed tea at this time in the morning, especially as it didn't appear that Angelina was going anywhere.

"No thank you." Angelina felt awkward. It was apparent. The scratching of her manicured finger nail against her temple, the occasional tuck of her hair behind her ear, no, she wasn't as confident as she had been when she banged on that door.

"I'll, um, just go and get George for you." Hermione said as she placed the mug in front of Angelina, who instantly wrapped her hands around it gratefully.

A few minutes later and Hermione was thankfully back in bed, revelling in having the whole king size to herself as Oliver had left for internationals in the wee hours of the morning. George, however, was not in a good mood, Hermione had violently shook him awake, and then dragged him to see his ex girlfriend who had invited herself into his kitchen at six in the morning.

"Ang? What in godrick's name are you doing here?" He quickly spotted the other mug of coffee that Hermione had left for him, eagerly taking a swig.

"I've been away since I got the letter, but I'm back now."

George saw it instantly, she'd glamoured herself well but she was exhausted, anxious to be back somewhere that she once felt so comfortable, and if he wasn't mistaken, she was scared. He was fighting all urges to wrap his arms around her and kiss her forehead.

But he didn't do that. When they were together they would end up arguing, making up, having sex and starting the whole cycle again, neither of them had actually come to terms with anything they witnessed during the war, and they took that out on each other in an extremely tiring relationship.

"You've been away?"

"New York."

"Oh?"

"Fancied a change."

"Why are you back?"

"To ask if you want to go through with this." Angelina sighed, putting her mug down on the counter, ready to stand up from her stool as soon as George said no.

"Why would you think I didn't?"

"Because you broke up with me..?"

"I was grieving!" George took two steps back and a deep breath, it was too early for this. "We mutually called it off, Ang."

"Don't call me Ang, _please."_ She couldn't even make eye contact with him, "You broke it off."

"Fine."

"So what do you want?"

"Look, the way I see it, someone at the ministry has done the maths and we're a good match."

"So fucking romantic!"

"How else do you want me to say it?!"

"I don't know. I'm sorry I came. I expected too much." She leant down from her stool, picking up her bag and walking across the flat to the front door, taking one look back at George, expecting him to say something, but he didn't. So she left, apparating as soon as she was out of the door, leaving it wide open for George to stare into the gap that she'd left behind.

* * *

 **Knock, knock.**

It was gentle, so quiet that Hermione would have missed it if she hadn't been wide awake listening to George and Angelina's argument, slipping her legs out of bed she walked over to her bedroom door, opening it up and smiling sadly as she saw George - he looked beat.

"Hey." Hermione whispered, a different hoodie this time, that wasn't covered in sauce splashes covered her pyjamas up.

"Did you hear?"

Hermione nodded, reaching up and hugging George tight, squeezing him tight she sighed as he fell limp against her, he was tired of all of this drama in the midst of one of the worst times in his life. Things had happened in that war, and especially in that battle, that George could never forget, they plagued his nightmares and burnt bright against his eyes like the hot summer sun.

"I don't even know why she came over, we never even got there."

"She got her letter didn't she? Probably wanted to know how to figure this whole mess out."

"I don't even know if we can figure this mess out Herms, it feels too big."

Hermione had let go of George and had climbed back into bed, "Come on idiot. We can watch some telly." Once George had wriggled into bed next to her, she crossed her legs and faced him, leaning on a pillow that she'd nestled in front of her chest. "In my experience of this ridiculous law, they are getting it right. I know some girls from my year are very happy, most of your brothers are happy, me and Oliver, even though we didn't even know each other, are deliriously happy. You and Angelina will work it out, I promise. I want to see you sort this out, George."

"I guess." He'd gone quiet now and Hermione knew she wouldn't get anything else out of him, he was now far too busy in his own head, thinking everything through. He'd have to talk it all through with Fred, and then finally he'd be able to go over to Ang's and lay his cards on the table.

"Telly?"

"Mhm, sounds good."

Hermione laughed to herself, grabbing the remote and switching on the discovery channel, Gryff (who was staying with Hermione whilst Oliver was away) had nestled himself between George and Hermione, even though the cat knew that George was one of his least biggest fans. The two of them stayed like that, in a comfortable silence until the sun finally rose a couple of hours later, and Fred finally dragged himself out of bed to hear the retelling from George.

* * *

"Do I look ok?" Fred was checking his collar in the wobbly mirror of the shop, his long limbs stretching even further than usual, and his crazy orange hair spiking out at all angles.

"Come over here, let me see." Hermione was sat on a stool behind the tills, they'd had a quiet morning, managed to eat a bit of lunch on the shop floor and then Fred had rushed off to get ready for his big blind date with Eliza. As Fred walked towards her, a broad smile stretched across her face, he was wearing casual denim jeans, curly toed loafers and a white shirt, buttoned all the way til the last one, with a thick woolen charcoal jacket over the top and a striped purple scarf. "You look perfect. Aside from the green soot on your face, here.." Just as she leant over the bench to rub it off his forehead, the bell at the door rang, and in stepped Eliza McGonogall.

Fred found himself unable to speak, she was even more beautiful than in the magazine Ginny had shoved in his face the day they got their letters.. She was wearing skinny grey jeans with sloppy suede ankle boots, an emerald patterned shirt tucked into her jeans, unbuttoned low, with a myriad of gold necklaces draped from her neck down, and a thick parka over the top, all with a similarly coloured bobble hat that she was now pulling off, revealing her messy long blonde waves.

"Shit, am I um, am I in Weasley's wizarding… um? Anyone?" She laughed uncomfortably, unaware of what to do was Fred and George gawked even more.

"Hi! Yep, you are. Sorry about these two." Hermione smiled, trying to be as friendly as possible, she jumped down from the stool and rushed towards her, holding out her hand to shake. Eliza shook, unable to keep her eyes from the twins who appeared to not be blinking.

"Are they okay?" She whispered to Hermione.

"A bit starstruck." Hermione clicked rapidly in front of their faces, kicking Fred in the shin when the clicks didn't work. "Idiot. Introduce. Yourself." She whispered, over pronouncing each word in the hope that he'd get the message.

"I'm Fred." He grinned, a little inanely, but Eliza didn't seem scared.

"I'm Eliza. Call me Elle?"

"Elle. Got it."

"Are you okay?" She giggled again, Hermione noted that she giggled when she was uncomfortable - this girl was perfect for Fred. If she laughed when she was nervous, then she was sure to laugh when he made crap jokes and tickled her. Hermione felt a weight lift off of her shoulders as soon as she found that Eliza, or Elle, was as natural as he was.

"You're just. You're just incredible."

"I'm actually just hungry." She grinned, winking at him playfully.

"I know a good pancake place."

"Chocolate, marshmallows and whipped cream? Please say you're not a honey and banana guy." Elle stared at him dead pan, running her fingers through her hair to drag out a couple of the knots that had formed on her way over.

Fred looked at George quickly, sticking both thumbs up, "Merlin. You are perfect."

Soon enough they had left the shop and were walking down the main path, just the two of them, close enough together that they occasionally brushed against each other, but not too close that they felt uncomfortable. By the time they had reached the pancake place and had sat at a table tucked away in the corner, away from the windows and potential photographers, they had already hit it off, chatting about their childhoods, their stances on pets and the like.

"So, you and me. We've got to get married." Elle mumbled, after she'd been quiet for a few minutes whilst she ate her pancake stack.

"We do…"

"I'm twenty."

"Great." Fred grinned, almost finished with his stack even though they'd only just gotten them. "We can have a delayed engagement, maybe two weeks or so?"

"Right, jokes aside. Quick fire questions for the future."

"Shit, let's go."

"Wedding. Big or small?"

"Big. Wait til you meet my family, it's massive."

Elle grinned at the thought of this, it had only ever really been her and her parents, she had always wanted a big family and here one was, waiting for her. "White wedding?"

"Please no." Fred had already started dreaming up the colourful patterns and colours that were going to surround their day and the rest of their lives.

"Kids?"

Fred stopped. His replies had been instant up until now, the silence made him wary. He didn't know. He'd not really thought about it.

"You're right. We've got time to think about that one."

Fred smiled at her, not an inane grin, a soft and gentle smile that made her heart melt a little and convinced him that this was going to work, just like it had with Hermione and Oliver. "My turn to ask you questions."

"Oooh okay," She rubbed her hands together in glee, then pushed her golden hair behind her ears, game face ready. "What are you looking at?"

"You." He winked, "London or the country?"

"London. For now."

"House or flat?"

"Well I live in a flat with some team mates now.. but I'd prefer a house."

"Garden?"

"Always."

"Dog or cat?"

"Both!"

"Tough one. Chocolate or cake? And you can't say both." Fred smirked, he'd caught her out on this one. She bit her lip, thinking.

Eventually. "Chocolate. But.. if it's out of season, cake."

"Out of season?"

"Playing season." Elle rolled her eyes, "I play for the Harpies, we have a 'diet'.. I don't really stick to it, but cake and fried stuff generally make me throw up at training."

"Lovely.." Fred dragged out the vowels, pushing his chair back slightly so he could extend his legs, "And if I'm honest, I know you play for the Harpies, a mate of mine had a poster of you."

"Grim." Elle laughed, "I don't do those anymore, they edited me. I did a magazine a couple months ago and they full on glamoured me, so I did their pictures and said no more."

"Why did they edit you?"

"Because of the stupid ideologies that Western wizarding society place on women."

Fred reached out and uncurled her hand that had clasped tightly together in a fist, and in that instant six bands of gold ink wrapped around both their wrists, interweaving and gleaming brighter than any he'd seen so far.

"What the fuck.." She mumbled under her breath, reaching out to touch his tattoo, it burned warm to the touch and instantly filled her with warmth all the way through her body.

"It's a ministry thing.. Hermione and Oliver have theirs, I think it's something to do with touching your match? If you touch and the tattoo appears you are 'soul mates'."

"Woah." Elle's eyebrows were still raised, her mouth in a little 'o', "Hermione, being Hermione Granger?"

"Yeah, you met her."

"WHAT? Did I?" Fred honestly didn't think that Elle's face could become even more shocked than when their tattoos started to form, but apparently it could. He sometimes forgot how much of a big deal she was to women all over the country, and the world if he was honest.

"In the shop.. she was the person you spoke to.."

"I spoke to someone? If I'm honest, I kinda was distracted a little, and well, nervous, really fucking nervous."

"You were? You looked so cool though. So .. calm?"

"You've got so much to learn." Elle laughed, and Fred laughed too, her giggle, her belly laugh, everything about when she smiled was utterly infectious, and Fred loved it. He'd never been with someone who could make him feel as warm on the inside as this girl did, and he was going to _marry_ this girl.

* * *

The front door slammed shut, two heavy feet kicked at the walls and then a rustle could be heard as Dan removed his thick winter coat and boots, he'd taken a house call in the highlands of Scotland for a patient he'd been treating for a few years now - normally, he would only treat patients in the hospital, as the office environment protected him and gave him distance between his work and his life, but this patient was close to his heart and once she moved, he hadn't been able to refer her to a new doctor in Scotland.

"Ron?" Dan called out, walking through the ground floor of the cottage, with only a small hallway, kitchen and living room this didn't take long, but there was still no sign of Ron. "I know you're home.." Dan called out again, "The door was unlocked, you troll." He pulled the scarf from his neck and slipped it over the banister, climbing the stairs two at a time until he reached the upstairs of the cottage.

Then Dan heard the gentle snoring of his future husband from the bedroom, it was four in the afternoon, Ron shouldn't be asleep. He never slept in the day. As quietly as he could, Dan found himself creeping into the cosy bedroom, pushing away some of his clothes, or Ron's, he was never really sure anymore - they seemed to cohabit each other's space easily.

Ron wasn't asleep. He was out cold. A bottle of muggle whiskey in his hand, a collapsed spread of his limbs on top of the mattress, _oh Ron.._ Dan slowly started to remove the bottle from his grip, before he lay a hand against Ron's face gently, that stubble that he loved so much was smattered gently all across his cheek and jaw.

"Baby.." Dan whispered, somehow managing to shift Ron's weight so that he could pull up the quilts and cover him up. His feet were still hanging over the edge, one shoe on, and as Dan was unlacing the trainer and pulling it off, he couldn't help but think about why Ron was out cold like this, why he had turned to large amounts of alcohol to get him through, what had he been so upset about? "I wish you'd just talk to me, eh?"

He couldn't fight his urges to hold Ron for much longer so he took off a few of his layers, grabbed his laptop and slipped into bed beside the almost child like ginger man next to him, wrapping an arm around his shoulders protectively. His laptop propped up against his knees, and the quilts keeping them both warm, he worked for the rest of the afternoon as Ron slept off his alcohol consumption. Occasionally Dan would whisper sweet nothings to Ron, or mumble questions like "Why won't you just talk to me?", reminding Ron that the brain and psychology were sort of the things he was good at.

"Mhh.. What..?" Ron mumbled, finally waking from his slumber at around 6pm, he gripped onto Dan's soft cotton top, feeling lost and confused, his head spinning, "Where?"

"In bed, you passed out.." Dan kissed his forehead and pushed his hair aside, "Whiskey, I believe."

"Fuck.."

"Hey, don't try and get up. I'll get you a glass of water, stay there." Dan's instinct to look after people kicked in, in full force, as he leapt out of bed to get Ron a glass of water, and as he came back in he found Ron, curled up on his side in the foetus position, shaking slightly. "Ron, babe, what's wrong?"

He placed the glass down on the bedside table and tucked himself behind Ron, wrapping an arm around his stomach and gently rubbing his back. This calming motion seemed to rest Ron a little, who stopped shaking and started to uncurl his legs.

"I struggle sleeping, well I don't sleep at all.." He mumbled, ashamed, holding onto the hand that had been rubbing Ron's back, he'd been nervous to tell Dan, as all Dan seemed to do was worry about Ron. This newfound relationship was in the most part comforting, and the best thing he'd ever had, but in many parts it terrified him, not that he was with a man, that didn't seem to bother him too much, even though he was hiding them away, no, this was terrifying because he felt himself relying on someone, more than he had in years.

"What?" Dan kissed Ron's hand gently, smiling sadly as he saw Ron's tattoo flutter, "You do.. We sleep together most nights."

"No Dan, you sleep." Ron manoeuvred himself in the bed so that he was sat facing Dan, and on this queue, Dan also moved, wriggling until his legs were over Ron's and their hands were together. "I can't sleep unless I've passed out, either from exhaustion or from well, you caught me."

"So the past few weeks, when I've been asleep?"

"I've read a lot of books.." In all honesty, Ron hadn't really read a lot of books, he'd spent a lot of time whispering to Dan about his worries, kissing the birth mark on his back or the bobbles of his spine that he knew Dan was self conscious about.

"You should've said, Ron." Dan leant forward and kissed Ron gently, letting him know that he wasn't angry, just worried, "Is it the PTSD?"

"PTSD?"

"Have you not spoken to anyone about the war?" Dan whispered, very tentatively as they'd never spoken about this before and Ron was probably already feeling drained.

"No one." Ron looked away, "What's PTSD?"

"A muggle term really.. but it stands for Post Traumatic Stress Disorder." Dan reached to the end of the bed and picked up his laptop, using a muggle website called google he quickly found the page for PTSD on something called the NHS. As they scrolled through the symptoms together, Dan wasn't at all surprised to know that Ron had encountered or encountered a lot of the symptoms on a daily basis. Hermione and Harry would do as well, in fact, most students who fought in the war probably had PTSD in some form or another, but Dan suspected that most of the students had gotten help, instead of forgetting that anything ever happened. "You know I'm a psychologist, I can help you through this, or.. I can help you manage it."

"Do you think I should talk to someone?" Ron couldn't meet Dan's eyes, he hadn't been able to since the whole conversation about PTSD started, of course people had mentioned things that sounded similar to that to the golden trio at different ministry appointments they'd had, a lot of the time the ministry made them have checkups before any big function or event, but they had all become expert liars and always achieved a full bill of health.

"Me?" Dan gently picked up Ron's chin, making him look at him, the intimate eye contact that would either make or break this conversation.

"Do you think that's for the best?"

"I can recommend someone, for the things you'd rather discuss with someone that you won't be marrying in a years time. But.. the intimate things? The struggling to sleep, or this reliance on alcohol? I think you should talk to me about that… I would want you to whether I was clinically trained or not, you're my soul mate, even if you don't want me to be." Dan was doing a good job up until that point, he was managing to keep it together, but the hurt inside his heart was evident by his final words.

"Dan?" Ron sighed slightly, not out of frustration with Dan, but out of frustration with himself, he'd been so caught up in his own problems and traumas that he had neglected the only person who was sticking by him through it all. He took the laptop from Dan's lap and closed the lid like he'd seen him do, then placed it on the floor by the bed, pulling Dan into his chest. "Why would you think I wouldn't want you? I know this has been.. unusual, but I do want you."

Dan closed his eyes tight, he couldn't quite believe he was about to do this, to tell the man that he'd not even known a month about something that only a handful of other people knew about. "Past experience."

"What past experience?" Ron had no idea what Dan was trying to tell him, but he had this horrible feeling in his gut that it would make him angry, that someone had hurt Dan in the past.

"I was in an abusive relationship." Dan whispered, his voice cracking, holding onto Ron, just as Ron had done not even an hour earlier when he had awoken from his alcohol induced slumber. The painful memories came flooding back, as if someone had opened the gates and there was nothing that could be done to stop them, they were running riot inside of his head, in pure technicolour.

"Someone.. they hurt you?" Ron kept his tone as even and as still as possible, trying to quash the fire that was burning inside of him at the thought of Dan in an abusive relationship. "Physically? Mentally?"

"Both." Dan pulled his legs up, curling his body up around Ron's, feeling significantly smaller than he ever had next to the red headed man. "He used to beat me up, so much so that I couldn't go to work. Then one day, I told him it was enough and that I was leaving him, and.. well he hurt me more than you can even imagine, and I got out. I stayed with my mate Oliver, I.. I slowly got my life back on track. But I guess, I've never dated since then and I've never thought I was enough for anyone."

They were both choked up, speechless in Dan's recount of his time with Zack, and with the lack of words in Ron's head, he pulled Dan closer, kissed his forehead gently and held Dan as he recovered from thinking about those dark times. This relationship, however dysfunctional, worked. They provided comfort to each other in the hard times, they had an intimate connection, both men truly cared about whatever the other one had to say, and that.. that is the basis for marriage. They could learn to love each other over time, but that organic connection that they shared, that couldn't be learnt, they either had that or they didn't.


	9. Chapter 9

_**Hidden Identities**_

It had been a particularly hardcore training, that their coach decided needed to run over by three hours, hence why Elle was still in bed at 11am on a Friday. Harpies never trained on a Friday as Saturday's were match days, so at best they'd meet for a team talk. Elle hated team talks. It meant she had to get out of bed before 9am on a Friday, and she liked her lazy days. Her flat mates were both muggle born and had a love of the gym, and even though they'd dragged Elle along three or four times she couldn't confess to loving it as much as they did. Meg even loved it so much that she was a personal trainer there, to cover her ridiculous lifestyle.

It was a hard tapping at the window that woke Elle up from her hazy slumber, she quickly shot up in bed and looked at both of the rake windows that were situated on the wall opposite her bed. A brightly coloured owl, bright at least for an owl, was tapping his beak against the window, clearly this was a tenacious animal. By the time she had gotten out from her double quilt and pulled open the dodgy Victorian windows the bird had tired itself out, hopping onto the radiator by the window and then down onto the floor where he sat for several minutes.

The note wrapped around his leg was short but sweet, and written by Fred.

 _Where have you gone?_

 _Is it too soon to say I miss you?_

 _F_

On their date they had decided that any communication between the two of them would conceal their identities, especially considering how the press were following Elle like a seeker on a snitch. This note however, made Elle's heart swell a little, so she quickly grabbed a biro, the closest thing she could find to a quill and scribbled on the back of it in her lazy handwriting.

 _I've been training! Let me off if you want us to win ;)_

 _I miss you too. I have a free Friday if you can get_ _Ge-_ _(the other one) to cover?_

 _I'm not good at this identity concealing._

 _E_

She took a quick look to his owl, deciding that it needed a break, before tying the message to her owl and giving her the address. In a matter of minutes another note had come back,

 _Can we still get married even though I don't support Harpies?_

 _The other one can definitely cover. I'll be there asap._

 _F_

 _P.s I totally do support the Harpies..._

 _now._

* * *

"You know how you quite like me and I've had a bad week?" Hermione smiled shyly over at Oliver from his bathroom, she was washing her face, well, more like scrubbing her face to try and clear her stressed out skin.

"Depends on if you tell me about why your week was bad," Oliver was propped up in bed, the covers over his legs, his chest bare from when he'd been sleeping with a warm Hermione wrapped around him. He had to admit he'd missed it, when he'd been away on international.

"I can't." She gripped onto the counter top of the bathroom so hard that her knuckles went white, which Oliver immediately picked up on, for an extremely intelligent girl she was forgetting the large mirror in front of her that gave her away. Once out of bed he slipped his muscular arms around her waist and kissed the nape of her neck.

"Aye, you can Mione, you just don't want to." He whispered gently.

"I had a panic attack, a really bad one. I didn't get out of bed on Thursday.. which is why I was so late coming over here last night. I had .. I had to take a potion to get myself to leave the house."

Oliver sighed, not in an exasperated way, in a concerned way. "You should've said. I would've come to you."

"You'd just come back from international, I know you wanted your own bed Ollie."

She washed the scrub off her face and turned to face him, "I wanted to be wherever you were, and that's not me being cheesy, it's just true. These potions.. especially the ones you're brewing yourself, they've got to stop babe."

"It hasn't even been a year. Don't ask things of me that I won't be able to do, I'll only disappoint you." Hermione let herself out of his hold, walking into the bedroom and grabbing a navy turtle neck and quickly changing into it, careful for Oliver to not see her scars. He'd seen them before. Of course he had, but she was emotionally charged and one little thing could tip her right now.

"You. Hermione Granger, could never," he followed her into the bedroom, "Aye, listen! You could never disappoint me."

Sitting on the edge of the bed she slid one leg into her opaque tights, and then the second leg, something that no one could ever do in a graceful way, yet Oliver would say that Hermione always managed it.

"Where are you going?"

"To the ministry, Kingsley has requested a meeting." She slipped her skirt on over her legs and pulled it to her waist, zipping it at the edge and smoothing down the laser cut detailing along the trim.

"Why don't I come with you and we can do a bit of shopping on the way back?"

"I hate shopping." She bit back, and then suddenly realised how nouty she was being with him, for no reason, he was looking after her and she bit his head off. "I'm sorry. I was going to ask you if you'd come with me, to meet Kingsley as well, I already owled ahead and he said it's okay if you come if I say so, and of course it's okay that you come."

"Are you done with your attitude?"

"Yes. I have an idea of a shop we should go to, it's definitely your sort of thing. You know, old cameras and new muggle cameras.. I'd like to treat you."

"Aye come on you don't have to do that." Oliver pulled a jumper over his shirt and jeans, checking himself in the mirror to see if the scar below his eye that he'd gained at training had healed at all.

"Key phrase there babe, _I'd like to._ " Hermione kissed his cheek gently, grabbed her wand off of the side and slid it into her jacket. "It won't heal if you pull it about like that."

"Aye Mam okay." Oliver laughed, "Are we walking to the Ministry?"

"Please. I need some fresh air. Get my head sorted."

Oliver kissed her soft mountain of curls, a small grin on his face as he whispered, "I think we're past that baby."

* * *

The bright yellow front door of Elle's flat shook as Fred banged his fist against it, and in less than a minute Elle had appeared at the two panes of glass, sticking her tongue out cheekily. Her long tanned legs stretched out of her tiny blue shorts, with a thick Harpies hoody over the top: it was at least two sizes too big and was definitely from the 80s by the looks of the design. Fred was freezing. Elle was still laughing.

"Let me in you troll!" He mouthed at her, holding up the two sticks of chocolate coated marshmallows he'd picked up from a store very similar to Honeydukes, she grinned as soon as she saw them, opening up the front door.

"Bribery, I like it." She took a bite from the top marshmallow as soon as Fred handed hers to her, "Hey Fred."

"Hey Elle." Fred smiled shyly, kicking off his black hi top converse and following Elle into the hallway, it was long and brightly coloured with big prints of quotes like 'Bad ass babes club' and 'The world is filled with nice people, if you can't find one, be one' along with a selection of photos of Elle, her flat mates, her team mates and so forth, stuck to the wall.

"Would you like the tour? The rest of it is just as bonkers." Elle licked her lips and finished off the last marshmallow on the stick, much to Fred's surprise.

"Hungry?"

"Ravenous. I've only just got out of bed."

"Aren't you meant to be an athlete?" Fred joked.

"My flat mates go to the gym enough to cover everyone, I do all the sleeping and eating." She winked, grabbing his spare hand and pulling him into the first room on the left hand side. _The living room?_ Fred thought.

Aside from the large bay window on the front of the house, with the dark blue curtains covered in stars, there was nothing traditional about this flat. There were three softly textured grey bean bags on the floor, _she must be sharing with muggle borns,_ and two large roll top couches, one in bright purple and one in bright orange, they were both pushed against the two walls that lay perpendicular to the door. The dark wooden flooring that had been in the hallway continued into the lounge, with a thick rug covering the majority of the floor, all of the furniture seemed to point towards the corner which housed a large flat screen television, _she definitely lives with a muggle born._

But it was the walls and the mirror that made Fred smile the most, the walls were covered in even more pictures than the hallway, ones with Elle laughing, ones with her pouting in serious black and white, whole team pictures, magazine shoots where they'd graffitied the pictures with moustaches and devil horns. Big maps in differing colours were pinned to the plaster, with pins sticking out of them to show where they'd travelled, he vaguely remembered Elle saying that her flat mates were a bit older than her and were both on the GB squad, which meant that they went away for international quite a bit. Then there was the mirror. As soon as they stood in front of it, they morphed into different people, _have I got her face?!_

"Where did you get this? It's bloody brilliant!"

"Some old junk shop in a wizarding colony in Wales, Meg found it. The whole flat is covered in stuff like that, she's a bit of a collector.." Elle laughed, poking the mirror so that it warped again, stretching their faces high above the mirrors edge.

"How long have you lived with them?"

"Eh.. about two years?" Elle looked up at Fred, when she responded to his question, "Do you mind if I eat?"

"Can I join you?" Fred chanced his arm, hoping that Elle wouldn't be funny with him. He was in luck, she started to skip off to the kitchen so he followed, amazed at the red and white tiling around the room, in fact, from what he'd seen so far this was one of the calmest parts of the place.

By the time that Elle had cooked up a veggie fry up and they were both sat at the table with it, Fred had managed to make her laugh with some crappy knock knock jokes, found out that she was ticklish beyond anyone he'd ever met before, and fallen a little bit head over heels for her.

"I know we just met but can I get something off my chest?" Elle shook her mane of hair out from the scrunchie it had been looped up in, Fred nodded back at her, a mouth full of food prohibiting him from speaking, "My Mum died when I was 11, and I tend to talk about my parents like they're both still here."

Fred swallowed the lump in his throat before he opened his mouth in shock, he didn't know what to say. Here he was with this great big family, that, _oh merlin,_ he'd talked about for hours the other day, and there she was, on the other end of the spectrum. "Shit, Elle. I'm, I'm so sorry." He reached across the table and squeezed her hand, she smiled gratefully back at him and that's when they both felt the pull of their tattoos, like some unexplainable force holding them together.

"It's alright. She just.. she would've loved you." Elle shrugged, half happy at the thought of her beautiful Mum meeting Fred and wrapping her arms around her in one of her famous bear hugs, and half sad, because that was never ever going to happen.

"Have you got any pictures?"

"Yeah." She bit her lip gently, "Do you actually want to see them?"

"I'd love to get to know her, if she made half of you then she must've been technicolour."

"She was. She was the brightest sunrise and the happiest rainy day, and she just. She would have loved you." Elle smiled, "And I promised her I wouldn't remember her and be sad, because she was never sad, not even on her last day. She was Rosie." Elle giggled to herself at the memory, from the first moment she remembers her Mum had always been Mama Rosie, and she had always been sick. It was a long battle, but not a hard one, not that she saw anyway. Every time she saw her Mama Rosie, the sun seemed to shine out of her, and she would have glitter or stars on her face and a blue scarf with sunflowers embroidered on it around her head.

"Do you need a hug?" Fred asked, and if it was if at had all fallen into place for Elle. Fred hugged like her Mama Rosie hugged, two arms tightly wrapped around you and just enough space for you to lay your head.

* * *

"So.. unfortunately, that is the case as it stands. Teddy is in the hands of the state, but he is being well cared for I assure you, and Mrs. Tonks has visited daily since he was put into care." Kingsley sighed, he had just finished telling Hermione and Oliver of the situation regarding Teddy and Andromeda - she had slowly deteriorated into a state of not being able to look after Teddy any more and had been forced to put him into care. A part of Hermione was angry that she'd reached out to the Ministry before she had reached out to Harry, but in all respect, Harry was not an easy person to get hold of.

"What I want to know, Minister, is why Harry has not been informed via some sort of communication, and why it is me sat in the office receiving this news on his behalf." Hermione knew how to fight her battles when she had them, Oliver took mental notes as he watched the conversation unfold to never get on the wrong side of her.

"As you are aware, Harry is in Greenland, he is out of communication range at this present time, Hermione." Kingsley understood the position that Hermione was in, of course he did, but there was nothing he could do about the situation, this is how it was. Until Harry could return from Greenland, Teddy would be in care.

Hermione had the same thought. "Can Harry not be brought off mission?"

"That is out of the question. He is vital to the proceedings."

"With all due respect Minister, they're probably watching polar bears."

Kingsley laughed, a great booming laugh that filled the room, it wasn't intended to be patronising, even though Hermione took it that way. "I can assure you, Hermione, that they are not watching polar bears."

"When will Harry be informed?"

"As soon as, I promise you. Once they are in range again, I will personally make sure that Harry knows." Kingsley stood from his desk to signal that they should be leaving as well, "I trust your match is working well?"

Hermione took a quick look up at Oliver, and smiled briefly, "Great change of subject, Kingsley. Let me know when you've informed Harry." And with that they both left his office, as soon as they were out of ear shot, Hermione turned to Oliver. "That is ridiculous, right? A. Why couldn't I have taken Teddy home with me until Harry returns and B. Why can't Harry come home?"

"Aye, I don't think it's as easy as that." Oliver slipped his hand into Hermione's, squeezing it once to let her know that he cared.

"Are you always this diplomatic?"

Oliver shrugged and pressed his lips to her temple, he knew that either answer would get him in trouble, so he chose to keep himself out of it. It was easier.


	10. Chapter 10

_**Eventually**_

It had been a couple of weeks since Hermione had heard the news about Teddy, which meant that Harry would be home soon, and they could start to get the whole adoption process under way, she had already gotten the necessary paper work in order so that all Harry would have to do is fill it out and sign it. And Hermione had written all of this in her weekly letter to Ron, she was the only person who had contact with him, and it killed her every time she saw how worried Mr and Mrs Weasley were about the whereabouts of their son. All she could do was reassure them that he was safe and that he needed his time.

"How long are we going to hide out here?" Dan said after reading Hermione's letter, "You have a life that is carrying on without you at home Ron." Dan had a life as well, and all of the trips to the West country to stay with Ron were becoming exhausting, his flat in London was sitting empty, and Ron's family were only becoming more anxious. As it stood they were both slumped on the floor of the lounge, a fire crackling in front of them, both wearing oversized knitted jumpers and their boxer shorts.

"I know."

"I don't think you do.. Do you realise how hard it is for me to keep this life of mine separate?" Dan sighed, untangling himself from Ron's warmth and sitting up in front of him, cross legged. Ron knew what this meant, Dan was going to go all psychologist on him. "I have friends and a family who all want to meet you, heck, I want to meet your friends! Hermione knows about me, I know she does. Stop kidding yourself, I exist."

Ron moved closer to Dan as Dan moved away, he gently took one of the dark haired man's hands into his and kissed it. "I know you exist. Why don't we meet Hermione for coffee? We can pack our stuff up here and go back to London."

Dan smiled cautiously, "Really? Is that what you want?"

"I'm not sure it's what I want, but it's what you need."

Dan grinned, leaping on top of Ron and kissing his lips roughly, sliding his fingers up into Ron's messy auburn hair and gripping his hair, straddling his hips he pushed himself against Ron, expressing his gratification.

"Woah woah, easy." Ron laughed happily, "Round two already?"

Dan licked his lips and kissed his way down from Ron's ear to his neck, "You bet."

* * *

"Fuck. What if she doesn't like me?" Dan was fussing with his shirt collar in the mirror, whilst Ron had just pulled on a pair of jeans and a clean sweater and was now laying back on their bed watching Dan worry.

"You meet people at work all the time, I don't understand why you're so worried about meeting Hermione."

"Because she's _Hermione Granger._ "

"Oh. Yeah. I forget how much that means to people." Ron sighed, getting off the bed and snaking his arms around Dan from behind, he kissed the nape of his neck gently, "You are an incredible, intelligent and beautiful man. She will love you."

"How do you do that?" Dan leant back on to Ron's chest and held onto both of his hands, grateful for the feeling his tattoo pulsed through his body.

"Do what?"

"I dunno, make me feel better, just by saying a few little things and hugging me."

"I think it's why we're soul mates, Godrick knows how I got so lucky." Ron grinned, kissing Dan's cheek quickly and grabbing the keys and his wallet off the bedside table, "But we are going to be late, and she won't love you if we're late."

"Yep, okay, let's go!" Dan grabbed his pager for work, and his muggle phone, slipping them into his pockets before following Ron into the hallway where they apparated and then walked into the coffee shop where they were meeting Hermione. She was already there.

"Ron!" Hermione ran towards him, tears in her eyes, and threw her arms around him in the biggest, tightest hug she had given him in months. "I have missed you. so. so. much." She mumbled into his shoulder, pulling away and holding him at arms length, checking him over as if it were still the war, as if someone could have hurt him. But the man standing next to him didn't seem capable of hurting a fly, he was slim, with soft brown eyes that held a twinkle, high cheekbones and slightly quiffed brown hair, a smart shirt and jeans, he seemed bookish. In fact, Hermione could sense it, he was bookish.

"You must be Dan." She smiled, pushing her tears from her eyes and moving away from Ron, "I can't tell, are you a hugger?"

"Oh my, Hermione Granger, you're Hermione Granger."

Hermione laughed, not uncomfortably, just laughed at this whole bizarre situation that she'd been thrown into. "I am. We're in an elite club."

"No. Do not mention Lavender Brown." Ron groaned, walking away from the two of them over to the coffee counter, having a look at the cakes on offer behind the glass screen.

"Lavender Brown?" Dan raised an eyebrow, nervously giggling.

"Ron and this girl Lavender had a thing, I think it was fifth year? Merlin, she was like a bad rash."

"And you?"

"Once, brief kiss. Sort of a war fuelled, guilt fuelled thing."

Dan didn't know how to respond, here he was, stood in a coffee shop with Hermione Granger telling him how she kissed his future husband, and here she was admitting her thoughts and feelings to him. If someone had told him five years ago that this would be his life, he would've laughed at them, really, really laughed at them. Thankfully, Ron was back to save him from his serious dry mouth. He felt his arm protectively slide around his back, settling on his waist. _Public display of affection? Ron must've been listening.._

"Hermione was just telling me about the small club of people I am now a part of." Dan said, turned to face Ron slightly, keeping eye contact with Hermione though. She couldn't shake the twinkle that he had in his eye.

"I ordered you a carrot cake, is that okay?"

"That's great, thank you." Dan glanced across the coffee shop and in a corner tucked beside two bookshelves and a fire place was a friend of his that he went through medical school with, she looked up and waved instantly, "Do you mind? I've not seen her in years."

"Oh of course not, we're sat up at the back." Hermione smiled, taking the coffee and the green tea that Ron had ordered up to the back, leading Ron. Ron had affectionately kissed his cheek before Dan had gone to greet his friend. This small action surprised Hermione, even more so than the arm wrap around.

Once the two of them were settled, Ron on the sofa and Hermione on the wing backed chair next to it, Hermione launched into questions.

"I have never seen you look so loved up in your life Ronald Weasley. What the hell is going on?!"

"Woah, bloody hell. Calm down."

"No, I haven't seen you in months and now here you are, with a lovely man, looking like a love sick teenager."

"I'm happy. It's hard, and we're taking it one step at a time but I'm happy."

"You seem it." Hermione reached her hand over and squeezed his hand gently, "Please say this means you're coming home. Your parents.."

"Don't do this." Ron sighed, "We are moving back to London, but I'm not ready."

At that exact moment Dan walked up behind the sofa Ron was sat on, he squeezed Ron's shoulder to let him know he was there, "Hey, woah have I um, walked in on.. um?"

"No, babe, it's fine, come sit down. Hermione was just asking where we were going to live in London."

"I live in Elephant and Castle, well I don't really live there at the moment, but my flat is there."

"So, Hermione. Elephant and Castle." Ron grimaced at Hermione, shutting her down with a look, as if to say, 'stop'.

"It's lovely round there." Hermione smiled, quickly scowling at Ron when Dan picked up his tea. "What do you do, Dan?"

"I'm a psychologist," Dan sipped his drink, very aware of all the tension between the two of them, he knew that they must've been speaking about something else before he turned up but there was nothing he could do about that now. "Mainly adults, but starting at 16 really."

"In St. Mungos?"

"Yeah, yeah I'm very lucky to work there."

"I imagine it's a tough job, especially in these times." Hermione had slipped into diplomacy mode, and Ron was pissed. Just because she had a problem with him, did not mean that she had to take it out on Dan as well, especially considering how nervous Dan was about meeting her.

"It's incredibly rewarding. In fact, that's how I finally met Ron. He made a fake appointment and there he was, sat on my sofa."

"It's all very romantic," Ron joked, sarcasm dripping from his voice, "How are you and Oliver? That's his name, right?" Two could play at this game.

Hermione huffed indignantly, _you damn well know what his name is,_ "Yep. We're really great thanks, going to set a date soon."

"Wow that's fast!" Dan remarked, but he knew he wasn't in this tennis match, Hermione and Ron were scoring points off each other and he may as well have been sat in the audience.

"Time's ticking."

Ron rolled his eyes, "We've been too busy to think about the wedding."

Dan opened his mouth to speak, to say that actually they'd discussed this whole wedding thing at great lengths when they were curled up under the covers in the evening, and that they were probably under similar pressure to set a date from the Ministry.. But as soon as he opened his mouth, Hermione had dived in.

"Too busy running away from your friends and family?"

"STOP!" Dan shouted, drawing attention from the other customers in the coffee shop, he lowered his voice instantly, "Hermione, I'm so sorry, we barely know each other, but please put yourself in Ron's shoes. Before he met me he had no idea he was gay, is gay, his whole life has been turned upside down and Godrick forbid he need a little time to sort his own head out before involving his friends and family into our somewhat, in fact, incredibly dysfunctional relationship. And Ron, stop scoring points. You're better than that."

"He's right, I'm sorry Hermione," Ron sighed, slipping his hand into Dan's to show how appreciative he was for Dan's intervention.

"I'm sorry too. Look, I think it's best if I go, but if you're moving back to London.. don't be a stranger Ron. And Dan. It was lovely to meet you, maybe we could get dinner? Without our other halves, I'd love to actually get to know you." Hermione smiled, not politely this time, she actually smiled, and Ron realised how much he'd missed her. As a goodwill gesture she hugged Dan first, and then Ron, whispering into his ear as she did, "He's perfect."

Once they had bid each other goodbye, Dan noticed his pager had gone off three times in the last twenty minutes, signalling something urgent must have happened at the office or the ward, and that he'd need to get down there right away.

"Hey I'm going to have to get this, I'll only be a few hours.." Dan sighed, running his fingers through his hair, "Meet me back at home?"

"Give me the address and a key?"

"Oh yeah, um," Dan rummaged around in his grey overcoat's pocket and produced his house key, "It's 312b, Penton Place."

"Anything you fancy for dinner?"

"I have no idea, whatever you fancy." He was distracted. Ron kissed his lips and he didn't feel it, he was already out of the coffee shop and slipping into a back alley to apparate to St. Mungos. He ran through the corridors and down into the psychology department, the mental health wards ran from the central point where the main desk and the consultation rooms were, he instantly felt calm hang over him but he knew that that was induced. "Gwen what is it? I'm sorry I'm late to my pager."

The look on Gwen's face said it all, she was rarely an emotional woman, you had to be strong in this department, but she looked sad today, "Emilie took her own life this morning."

Emilie was one of Dan's longest standing patients, she'd been admitted onto the ward for roughly 3 months, but that was over a year ago and she was positive about the future now, her anxiety and postpartum depression were in good check, she had 3 appointments a week and sometimes she even brought her baby in with her.

"Have you got the file?"

Gwen handed it to him and squeezed his hand afterwards, she understood.

"I think I'm going to go home, for the paperwork. Does her husband know?"

"Dr Montgomery is talking to him, he was picking Alice up from nursery."

"Please tell him, from me, that I am available 24/7. Give him my number."

"Are you sure that's wise?"

"Please Gwen." And with that he left, grabbed the rest of Emilie's paperwork from his office and went straight home via the floo, as soon as he emerged he saw Ron's face and crumbled. He found he couldn't support his own weight so dropped to the floor, silently crying, the papers scattered in front of him from when he'd dropped them.

"Dan? What's happened?" Ron's arms were around Dan instantly, he picked him up and got him to the deep corner sofa that he hadn't expected to find in Dan's apartment. He didn't speak for a while, so Ron slowly unlaced Dan's shoes and pushed them off, unpopped his jacket and slid one arm off at a time before putting it on the back of the sofa, and then eventually Dan's crying seemed to stop, and he managed to take some deep breaths to regain his composure ever so slightly.

"One of my patients, they took their own life this morning."

Ron had no words, they had spoken about work a little, but mostly it was confidential and Dan couldn't say much, sure, Ron knew if he'd had a tough day at work, but generally it was small talk at best. He'd never really witnessed how emotionally invested Dan was. For what felt like hours he held Dan close to him, curled up between his legs with his head tucked in the crook of Ron's, he didn't care how clingy he was being, or how unhealthy this was as a psychologist. Throughout his training he'd been warned that getting attached to patients would only end badly but that didn't seem important right now. It was days like this that made him rethink his choice to go into mental health in the first place, he could've stayed on as a sports psychologist.

"You need to eat, Dan." Ron whispered, kissing his temple gently. "It'll help, I promise."

"I've not really got an appetite. I have her paperwork to do."

"Can it wait til tomorrow?"

"Well yes, but.."

"But what? You can give me half an hour to eat."

"I don't have an appetite, Ron."

"I made your favourite."

"Chicken and potato soup?"

"Mum's recipe. I got some bread too. The muggle supermarket confused me, but we got there eventually."

"Did you use the machine?" Dan laughed, in a sort of broken, this is funny but I don't feel like laughing, way.

Ron nodded, puffing out his chest proudly, "So will you give me half an hour?"

"Yep, okay. Sure."

By the time Ron had portioned the soup out into two bowls and made a mug of green tea for Dan, he had picked up the papers from where he'd dropped them and was filling out the first of many forms he would have to pour over in the coming days. Ron sighed, stood in the doorway. Dan couldn't see him, and probably wouldn't hear him, he was so engrossed in what he was doing, but Ron had to shake him out of it. This wasn't going to help. He placed the two bowls down on the coffee table, clearing space from the files, and sat down next to him with his tea in his hands.

"This is for you."

Dan didn't reply, or acknowledge his presence. He was scared to touch him in case he jumped, or got a fright, Ron had learnt this over the last few weeks, that sudden touching made Dan flinch, or hide.

"Dan, baby. I have tea."

Again, nothing. He probably didn't even know Ron was there.

"Dan, it's Ron. I'm going to touch your shoulder," Ron reached out, holding the tea as far away as possible, and brushed his hand against Dan's shoulder, he flinched, but nothing major, and finally looked up at Ron. "Hey."

"I didn't.. I didn't realise you were there."

"I know. You need to put this stuff down, til tomorrow."

"I can't. I have to do this."

"You told me, it can wait until tomorrow."

"Dan can I be straight with you?"

He nodded, and Ron sighed inwardly at how he didn't make a sarcastic joke about how Ron wasn't straight - he needed to get Dan out of this dark space he'd got himself into. This wasn't positive grieving, and this wouldn't get him anywhere.

"Ever since Zack, you've thrown yourself into your work, and you've not stopped and thought about yourself once, yeah, maybe you've told yourself you've been looking after yourself because you hang out with your friends and you visit your parents. But this bubble you've created for yourself? It's not healthy.." Ron sighed, reaching out and squeezing Dan's hand, "I can't even begin to understand what you went through, and I want to beat the living daylights out of him, but you are bloody brilliant. Don't let him take away your control."

"I'm going to go to bed." And there it was, Dan unfolded his legs, picked up the file and put down the mug of tea, walking out of the room and down the corridor away from Ron.


End file.
